The Un-Agents
by BookProtector
Summary: The skull is gone, and not even George has a clue to where it could be. When they discover Lucy's mother is nearing the end of her life they go to visit. Only to find her house inhabited by strange men. After their close shave they receive a call from Penelope Fittes asking for their help. With no choice except to comply, Lockwood and Co must wade into deep water to save themselves
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is my first story, I hope you like it. No negativity please, but I always really love constructive criticism. I love the Lockwood and Co books, September 12 seems so far away. I'll try to update as soon as I can, I have the whole thing planned out so even though it might take a bit to get started it should go pretty fast. I hope you enjoy the story. Note: the picture is not mine here is the link to where I found it** **post/150580528639/doodle-doot-doot-lucy-trying-to-look-badass-im**

Some ghosts aren't dangerous, just freakishly annoying. On nights when you had to go up against those ghosts you mostly just had to blunder through, and try to sort through the (even more than usual) fragmented bits of information you get while you fight it. Tonight was one of those nights. And I had just ran out of my favorite chewing gum.

All night we had felt the ghost, barely. It was as seeing things through a veil, you could tell it was there, but you couldn't make it features out. Currently I was sitting in the middle of my iron circle, digging though my belt, wishing for once that Holly had gone through it and replenished supplies. Nights always seemed longer without gum. The house we were in was relatively small, I could see the light from George's candle around the corner, and hear the sound of pages turning. I was upstairs with George, and Lockwood was downstairs. So far we hadn't found anything, although George claims that the ghost slammed the door on his foot, I wasn't convinced that it wasn't just his own clumsiness however. By dawn I had heard nothing, Lockwood had seen nothing. So we headed home to call the client and tell them that unfortunately we hadn't been able to locate his type

one.

As soon as we got home George got on the phone to call, I went upstairs to shower, and Lockwood went to the basement to vent his frustration on the poor dummies. After my shower I flopped into bed and was about to go to sleep when I had a sudden thought, the skull hadn't bothered me today. I was surprised it wasn't whining about how I had left it behind today. George better not have been doing experiments on it again, when he did that it got grumpy and let out all of its frustration on me. I wished I knew some nicer type threes, or that Lockwood, and George could hear it. I turned over in bed, and changed my mind. The skull goes on about all kinds of stupid things, I can ignore them, but George would start having a conversation with it and who knows how that would end.

I decided that maybe it would be nice to have someone to talk to, and since Lockwood and George were both in foul moods, and Holly had gone home already that left the skull. Unless I wanted to go out seeking Flo Bones or Quill Kipps. I mean, I could have found them if I tried, they were both probably out right now. Well, Flo at least, I didn't know what Kipps was doing now. Lockwood said he could work here if he wanted, but he hadn't taken us up on the offer, at least, not yet.

I got up and began to search my room, why was I even looking for the skull? I didn't like it, or need it. Particularly when there were perfectly fine people in the house. I guess maybe it was kind of a part of the team now, a part of the team who cheered while we risked our lives.

It wasn't in my room so I went down the stairs and braved Georges, but his room was empty of any skulls. Unless you count my sketches of the skull I'd done for him, or the pictures in his books. I peeked into Lockwood's room, but it was clean and empty of it's owner and my prey. It wasn't in the library where George was reading a comic, and when I asked him about it he said he'd left it in the basement.

I snuck down the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. Lockwood was down here, and after failed cases he was generally not inclined to be friendly.

When I poked my head through the doorway I saw him, slim, and tall. He was slashing at poor Joe, who looked like he might soon need a new arm. I didn't understand how we wasn't exhausted. I got tired after twenty minutes of fencing, he must've been at it for at least an hour. I scanned the basement, but couldn't see the tell-tale green glow. I sighed tiredly, what was I doing? Looking for an annoyance when I should be sleeping? So I trudged back upstairs and fell into bed.

But none of us, including Holly, saw the skull the next day.

Or the next.

Or the next.


	2. Bones and Trains

London was cold tonight. Cold, and wet. I had forgotten my umbrella. And ran with my coat over my head. I was looking for Flo Bones. The skull was gone, and she might have an idea where it was if any of the relic-men had taken it. I was almost to the river, I could tell because it stank something awful.

Suddenly, my foot slipped. I pitched forward into the mud, somehow managing to throw my coat more than six feet away. The mud seeped into my clothing, making me even more cold and wet than I been before. I scrambled after it, hoping that the licorice in one of the pockets hadn't fallen out. It hadn't so I held up my coat again. Though how much it would keep me dry now I didn't know.

When I finally got to the river, I sat down on a rock and waited. I figured Flo would find me. I hoped she knew something. I missed the skull, no matter how annoying it was, it had become a part of the team. And another thing. If DEPRAC, or Fittes found out that we had it we would almost certainly be shut down.

"What are you doing here?" Flo had found me. I stood up and lowered my jacket to get the licorice.

"I want to ask you something. I have licorice." She stepped closer and looked me up and down. Flo snorted.

"You look, and smell, almost like genuine relic-woman. Give me the licorice." I was unsure of whether that was a compliment, or an insult. I decided it wasn't important and moved forward. I handed over the sweets

"I'm looking for a skull in a jar. It has greenish yellow fog around it, and is trapped in silver glass." Flo opened the package and tore at a string of the thick, black candy.

"Nedder 'eard od it." she mumbled. Dang it, that was five pounds and a whole evening wasted. Flo swallowed, "Though I did hear of someone who got caught on the train station trying to take a ghost with them. Don't know who it is or what ghost, that's all I have." I sighed.

"Thanks, Flo." I said and began to leave. There was a shout from behind me.

"Tell Locky I only want this brand of licorice from now on. I'll throw him in the river if he doesn't!" I waved and kept walking, coat back over my head.

I was just about to call a night cab, when I realized I had no money. It must have fallen out when I fell. There was no way I was finding it in this weather. I swore and kicked the nearest trash can. It shook, but didn't fall over. Somehow the thought that I hadn't even knocked it over made me even angrier. Now I had to take the underground, oh wait, I still didn't have any money. I had gotten a cab most of the way to the river, and only had to run the last bit. I was at least six miles from Portland Row. I sighed, I had been doing a lot of that lately, and began to walk.

Near an two hours later, around one in the morning, I arrived back at home. Lockwood had left to deal with a gray haze before I went to find Flo. He should be back by now. He better, George was most likely asleep and I didn't have my key on me. I wasn't going to stand outside in the rain, covered in mud, until he got back.

I staggered up the steps and knocked on the door. There were footsteps, then the door swung open. Lockwood had gotten back, he had a small cut on his cheek, and was holding a cup of tea. I wondered how he got a cut from a gray haze when he asked,

"Lucy! What happened to you? Did Flo throw you in the river?" Flo seemed to be pretty famous for throwing people in the river. I grunted and pushed my way inside, ignoring the trail of mud and water I left.

"No, I tripped." Lockwood raised an eyebrow and shut the door behind me as I tried to take off my boots, "And fell." I added. I finally got my mud splattered boots off, and dropped my coat next to it.

"George is going to have a fit when he comes down in the morning." Said Lockwood calmly, surveying the rug like it was a newspaper. On second thought, he got pretty worked up about the newspaper sometimes.

"I don't care right now. I need something to eat, then a shower."

"There's some leftovers from dinner I saved them for you when I noticed you weren't back yet."

"Thanks." I said, and set off for the kitchen. Lockwood followed me and leaned idly against the counter while I ate some leftover pancakes. "These aren't very good pancakes." I said as I munched on them, "These are the pancakes that you made this morning aren't they."

"No actually, those are the ones George made last week and left in the fridge." I finished the pancakes and got a glass of water.

"I'm going to wash up, then to bed." I yawned, "Good night, Lockwood."

"Night, Luce." He called after me, but I was already on my way to a nice hot shower, and a change of clothes.

 **Sorry for the short chapter, I'm trying to make them longer.**


	3. Chapter 3

It was cold that morning, it was the time of year where when you woke up and put your feet on the floor they screamed for warmth. I stumbled downstairs in my pajamas, trying to shake off a disturbing dream about Penelope Fittes accusing me of stealing the Skull why I desperately had to go to the bathroom. Needless to say, I hadn't slept very well.

I was curious about Penelope Fittes though, once it said that she and Marissa were the same person it clammed up. And now it was gone.

I was up earlier than I normally was, having been woken by my dreams. And so when I entered the Kitchen, George was still making breakfast. I staggered in, and sat down heavily in my chair.

"Morning, Lucy. Did Flo know anything?" I shook my head, then set it down in my arms. It sure felt heavy. George was worried about the skull too, but for different reasons. He didn't think he'd ever get another chance to nick a type three ghost from the most powerful agency in London again. He was probably right. Lockwood didn't seem to care very much. He kept an eye out and asked a few people who knew about the ghost jar. But came up empty handed.

Lockwood was back to his normal self, ever since I had returned he hadn't seemed as willing to throw himself into danger. George seemed to go back to normal also. They didn't talk about what had occurred when I was gone. When I asked the only replies I got were things like, 'Oh, we just went around and did jobs.' or, 'Oh, it was pretty boring.'. I didn't mind not knowing, but I didn't like how they avoided the questions. It was as if they wanted to forget I had even been gone. Which I couldn't do.

"What type of jam do you want Lucy, peach, or raspberry?" George asked.

"Raspberry." I muttered.

Lockwood bounded down the stairs just then, seeming full of life and energy as always. I wondered how much sleep he had gotten last night, more than me certainly?

"Good morning, George, Luce." He chirped, and went on to butter some bread. Or at least I assumed he was buttering bread by the way he was asking George, 'what in the world have you done with the butter?'. My head was still down. Someone set a plate down next to my head, I ignored it. I heard George thud down into his chair, and Lockwood walk over to his chair. They began to eat.

Once the sounds of them munching on their toast had faded George spoke,

"Now we need to have a serious talk about what you did Lucy."

"What did I do?" I moaned. Why was he talking so loud? Did he _want_ to bust my ears?

"The hallway." Oh. That. Lockwood said George would be upset. George went to chide me for making a mess in the entryway. What would the clients think? Couldn't I have taken off my boots outside? Blah, blah, blah. I tried to ignore him. I closed my eyes and must have dozed off.

When I woke, I was still lying down on the table, although my back was now very sore. Someone, probably Lockwood, had been nice enough to throw a blanket over my shoulders. I sat up blearily and rubbed my eyes. The kitchen was deserted. A piece of toast with raspberry jam was on a plate on the table. But other than that it looked exactly as it had before Lockwood came down. I folded the blanket and left it on the chair. There was a small note on the thinking cloth in green marker.

 _Gone shopping, will be back around noon. Make sure to clean up the hall._

I groaned and went upstairs to get dressed. After I was properly attired, I set to the task of wiping dried mud off a nice rug. I was coming back from throwing my coat into the laundry pile when George and Lockwood came back.

Lockwood inspected the rug,

"Nice work. You missed a spot there though." He pointed at a pair of boot prints I had missed. George ignored me completely and went into the kitchen where he proceeded to dump a pile of groceries on the table.

"We got doughnuts, if you want one." Lockwood said and followed George. I finished cleaning up the boot prints then went into the kitchen. George was already on his second jelly doughnut. Lockwood had hardly eaten any of his maple bar, and was brandishing it around, talking excitedly while his eyes glittered. I grabbed a chocolate bar and sat down. Lockwood finished whatever story he was telling then George turned to me.

"Enjoy your nap?" he asked. I shrugged,

"It was okay."

"You missed my entire tirade about how you, and Lockwood never clean up your messes." I snorted,

"Says the person who left a sandwich on the couch for weeks. Remember when Mrs Williams sat on it?"

"At least I didn't leave an explosion of river water in the place where they'll get their first impressions of us."

We continued to bicker back and forth for awhile, Lockwood watched us with amusement, he finished his maple bar and went to get a glass of water. The bell rang and George and I both shut up. Last time we had opened the door, we had found a hysterical woman on her knees begging us to rid her of her specter.

"I'm not opening it." I said.

"Not me," said George.

Lockwood shrugged and made his way to to the door. George and I listened carefully, George, secretly hoping it was another weirdo, Me, secretly hoping it was Holly. While I was cleaning she had called and said that she would be late today.

"Hello," Lockwood said, "I'm Anthony Lockwood, can I help you." The that responded seemed familiar, but not quite right.

"Um, yes, I think so. I'm looking for Lucy Carlyle, I believe she works here."

"Yes she certainly does, let me go get her. Please, come in." George, and I, who had been listening at the doorway scampered back to our seats when we heard him coming. Technically we hadn't been doing anything wrong. But from years of eavesdropping experience had taught us that when the person you were listening to came towards you, you hightailed it.

Lockwood came in looking slightly puzzled, but unconcerned.

"Someone's asking for you Lucy." I already knew that, of course, but I nodded and stood up anyway as if it was news to me. I stepped into the hallway and looked her up and down.

"Hello?" I asked, "You wanted me?" She nodded and took a step towards me. She looked very familiar, she was wearing a pretty yellow dress that looked out of place in London. A white bag was slung over one shoulder, and I could see the edges of a mirror sticking out of it. Her brown hair was curled, and it fell over her shoulders in ringlets to her waist. She had on a pair of large, black glasses, that seemed to make her blue eyes seem much bigger than they actually were. Altogether, she looked like the kind of girl who spent more of her time fussing with her hair, than reading the papers.

"Yes! Yes I did, how are you Lucy?"

"Fine, I guess."

"Has everything been working out for you?"

"Uh, huh."

"Everyone has missed you so much, but I'm glad you're doing okay."

"Uhm-"

"You look so good! With your fancy rapier and your dark clothes. I could never be so serious looking, are you sure you're alright?" Her endless chatter was beginning to annoy me. Not to mention the fact she talked as if she knew me.

"Not to be rude," I said, "But do I know you?" For a second she seemed confused, then a little hurt.

"Oh, you don't remember me? Well it has been a long time. It's me Tia!" The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it,

"Tia?" I asked,

"Yes!" She cried and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around me in embrace. I froze. "Your sister!"


	4. Chapter 4

I could hear George snickering quietly, surely he, and Lockwood were eavesdropping on me as I had been eavesdropping on Lockwood a few minutes ago. Tia was still hugging me, her arms were warm, and welcoming. But I didn't hug her back. My sister? Tia? That sounded familiar now that I thought about it. Wasn't she my, second, not _third_ , oldest sister? The one who got married at nineteen, and left when I was seven. The one who sent me little bags of candy for two years, before her husband died and came back to haunt her? That sister? I barely remembered any of my sisters besides Mary. I went to work when at night, and slept during the day. They went to school during the day, and slept at night. My four oldest sisters had moved out before I was ten. So I didn't really even know them at all. By the time I came around they were to old to play with the baby. If I thought about it I could remember her, but it was all hazy, memories from a long time ago.

She let go and stepped back. Her eyes glistened.

"We were so worried about you! How come you couldn't have said goodbye, I only live in the the next town over. Mom said you just left a note and ran off. But now I can visit you!" I just stared at her. I felt two pairs of eyes on my back and frowned. Tia frowned too, "What's wrong?" She asked, "I know you don't remember me very well, but I remember you!" She opened her purse and dug around in it for a moment. "I even have that picture we took before I left!" She held it out to me, and I took it.

It was a faded photograph of my whole family. Mother was in the back, looking less careworn than I had ever seen her. Clustered around her were my sisters. I could see Tia in it, she looked about eighteen and was holding onto the arm of a handsome man with blonde hair and glasses. I was in it too. Sitting in the front row, smiling my face off. That was before I joined the night watch then.

I handed the photograph back.

"What do you want?" I asked. She frowned,

"What is the matter?" she asked again. I didn't want to see her, I didn't want to see any of my family. I didn't want it. I didn't want it. I chose to leave my past behind, and start again, and now here comes some pretty girl who thinks I still belong there. I was hungry, and tired, and upset. I didn't want her crap. Who did she think she was? My _sister?_ Please, until today, I didn't even know her name.

"What is the matter?" I asked sarcastically, "The _matter_ is that you've shown up on my door and talk to me as if you know me!" I was overreacting, calm down Lucy, calm down. But keeping control was Lockwood's Forte not mine. She was frowning now, her humongous eyes looked sorrowful. I felt kind of bad. But not bad enough to stop yelling. I knew I was being stupid. But I didn't want my family, I didn't need it.

"I'm sorry." she said, and truly sounded it. "I just wanted to see if you were doing okay, Mary really wanted to visit, but she's busy. Mother wanted to come see you too, but she's not doing so well these days."

"Not doing well!" I laughed hysterically. My behavior was beginning to scare myself. "She wasn't doing well when I left, or when she made me join the night watch." The way she talked bothered me, she talked like I _wanted_ to know this stuff. I didn't.

"Oh, she wasn't?" She said innocently. I hated her, I hated her face, I hated her voice. I hated her, she was a part of my cursed family who didn't even care when all my friends died, and I left.

"No!" I shouted, "She wasn't! After all, who can expect to be well when you have to feed a whole family off of one kids earnings? All she did was watch T.V. that she bought with _my_ money. All you did was send candy for a year or two. All Mary did was hide in her room. All _anyone_ did was mooch of my money and hide from the truth. I hate all of you! You never even took the time to get to know me, and now you expect me to talk about happy times!" I hate all of you. The words rang in my head. Echoing the meanest words I'd ever said. And against my own family.

Tia had tears in her eyes but was trying hard not to cry. I hated myself for what I had just said.

"I'm sorry." I said quietly. "I didn't mean that." Tia tried to smile,

"It's- It's okay, Lucy." I felt really bad now. If I went upstairs, then Lockwood, or George would try to talk to me. I didn't want to talk to anyone. So I pushed past her and ran outside.

It was cold, and I hadn't thought to put on my boots. And wearing my coat was out of the question. I could hear Lockwood yelling after me, but I didn't go back. What was _wrong_ with me! I was angry, and sad, and didn't know what I had done, or what I could do now. I only ran for about two blocks before I slowed to a walk. I didn't know where I was going. So I just walked.

George

I had no idea what just happened. One minute, the girl, Tia, was hugging Lucy. The next Lucy was screaming as if Tia had just tried to murder her. Then Lucy stalked out, and now Tia was standing in the hall, trying not to cry.

Lockwood stepped out and went to call Lucy back. She didn't listen, no surprise there. After that he invited Tia to sit down and have a cup of tea. We headed for the kitchen. Tia pushed up her glasses and wiped her eyes with her forearm.

"What did I do wrong?" she asked. I felt kinda bad for her, but wasn't going to say that. Lucy could be pretty mean, but she didn't (usually) mean harm.

Lockwood frowned,

"I'm not sure. Luce has always been pretty quiet about what her life was like before Portland Row."

"Mother said that Lucy sent back money each month. That's how I knew where to find her." I frowned,

"She did?" Tia nodded wetly.

"I went to visit her before I came here. She wants to see Lucy."

"Well," I said dryly, "I don't think Lucy wants to see her." Lockwood glared at me and poured three cups of tea. Tia took hers, and took a sip.

"Is she doing okay? She doesn't look very good."

"She's fine," Lockwood said kindly, "Just was up late last night."

"She took a nap at breakfast." I said, "That should have perked her up a little bit." Tia took another sip of tea.

"Has anything happened since she joined your company?" She asked quietly. Lockwood chuckled, and Tia instinctively smiled back.

"A lot of stuff has happened." He said, "We went to the most haunted house in London and came out alive. George almost died looking into the bone glass. We fixed the Chelsey outbreak. And…" He hesitated slightly, "And we solved the case of Solomon Guppy!" Her eyes shone in admiration.

"Really? She was there for all that?" Lockwood nodded,

"We couldn't have done it without her, she has saved us multiple times." She nodded,

"Lucy is very brave. But, what I meant is has anyone died yet?" Lockwood met my eyes,

"Not any of us, although we've had some close calls. Lucy almost fell in a well, and she almost fell off some massive stairs. George looked into the bone glass. I got lit on fire while hanging outside a window once." She snorted,

"How did that happen?" While Lockwood told the story, I decided that Tia was a very nice person. If a little gullible. She was nothing like Lucy. Although I suppose if Lucy got a full night of sleep they would have much the same smile. I was still puzzled over Lucy's reaction. She was normally hot-tempered, but what she had said seemed a little extreme. I had never seen her lose control like that before, I had heard about how she yelled at Holly while we were in the middle of a haunted shopping center. But she hadn't said that she hated her.

At that moment the bell rang, and I went to get it. Speak of the devil, it was Holly. As soon as she saw the rug she practically passed out. Apparently Lucy hadn't cleaned it off all the way. She began working on it immediately.

I headed back to the kitchen, where Lockwood was just finishing his story.

"Excuse me." Tia said, "But I was wondering if I could see where she sleeps, I want to leave her a present."

"Certainly!" Lockwood exclaimed, and lept up. "It's just this way, careful, that stair is a little loose. As they made their way up to Lucy's room, I kept contemplating why Lucy reacted the way she did. I felt like Tia had touched a nerve, and I was determined to figure out what it was.

 **Hello! I was wondering what you thought of this chapter, I feel like I made Lucy a little to harsh. I wanted her to react strongly, but I think she got mad to fast. Please review, it motivates me to keep writing! Thanks for reading. ;D**


	5. Chapter 5

It was frigid outside. I rubbed my bare arms and sighed. What was I going to do when I got back? I was at a park, about a mile away. Sitting on a bench by yourself, in winter, while in a short-sleeved shirt, is not a good idea. Particularly when It starts to snow. When the white flakes started drifting down I decided I better go home.

When I got to the door I hesitated. But I was starving, and cold, and I needed sleep. So I opened the door and came in. I left wet footprints in the rug. I could feel the warmth, stinging at first, then comforting. I looked at the trail of footprints. George wouldn't be happy, that would be the second time in as many days. My feet were red, and it stung to walk on them. I could hear Lockwood and George in the kitchen, chatting quietly. I braced myself, and walked in.

The whole kitchen smelled like cinnamon. I sniffed deeply, and for a minute everything seemed alright. George, and Lockwood were sitting at the table. Arguing animatedly about something. Lockwood had a plate in front of him that held a half eaten sandwich. Georges plate had crumbs. When I came in they both stopped talking and looked up. I felt them both looking me up and down.

"Welcome back, Lucy!" Said Lockwood cheerfully. Smiling brightly, "There's a sandwich in the fridge for you! Come eat!"

I got my sandwich and sat down.

"Anyway," George was saying, "We don't need to spend anymore money on rapiers, the ones we have one work fine!" Lockwood shook his head,

"But these are the best of the best! They're even coated in silver!"

"Which means they'll be twice as expensive, ours work fine!" George said. I wondered where Tia had gone. I hoped she wasn't here anymore.

"What do you think Lucy?" George asked me, "Do we need fancy new rapiers?" I shrugged, mine works fine. But if Lockwood wants a new one I suppose he can get one." I finished off my sandwich and set my plate in the sink.

"See!" Cried George, "We don't need any new ones." I went down to the basement, the talk about rapiers made me want to try something. I was going to try Lockwood's technique for ridding oneself of stress. Once I was in the basement I grabbed an old rapier from the stand and set to work on Joe. Esmerelda had recently lost an arm, I think it was George who had done it actually. I wondered what George had thought about my outburst earlier. Him, and Lockwood were pretending like it didn't happen.

I stabbed Joe in the head. I understood why Lockwood enjoyed doing this while he was angry now. It drained all your energy, till you were to tired to worry. Maybe I was just low on sleep, but I wasn't as angry anymore. If anything, I felt more guilty. But that was wearing off too. I kept on hacking at Joe. My breath was fast, and hard. I could hear my heartbeat in my head. It felt good.

"Keep up like that and Joe will lose an arm too." I whipped around, lowering my rapier. It was Lockwood, standing in the doorway. His hair flopped elegantly over his eyes, and he brushed it back. He was smiling slightly, that made everything seem a little better.

"Yeah-" I panted, "He's getting a little battered." It was true, his stuffing was coming out in multiple places, and there were holes and cuts all over. They weren't all from me.

"You should go to bed, we have another case tomorrow night." I didn't really want to go to bed, but I was tired, and sad, and figured it was probably for the best. So I put rapier up and went to leave. As I left, Lockwood set to work on Joe. He was probably going to lose an arm tonight.

I climbed up the stairs slowly, and wondered about what our case was about tomorrow. I hoped it wasn't a big deal. I could do with a full night of sleep for once. I opened my door and went inside, shutting it behind me. There was something on my bed.

It was a box, pretty green paper covered it completely. There was a cream envelope on it addressed to me in neat handwriting. I sat down on my bed, opened the envelope, pulled out a letter, and began to read.

 **Sorry for the short chapter, I'll try to get another one out today too.**


	6. Chapter 6

**practically geriatric: Thanks for the comment! I figure that Lucy was pretty tired, and overreacted. She also feels pretty bad about it now. Even so I decided to add another reason why she was so upset, I think it might work better that way. Enjoy!**

 _Dear Lucy,_

 _Hi! How are you doing, I know you visited not that long ago, but it feels like forever! Mom is really sick. The doctors say she might die soon. Would you come visit and see her? I'm sure she would appreciate it. We were also wondering if you could send some more money, her bills have been pretty expensive. You can bring your friends. I have included three train tickets in this letter come and visit. I know you don't want to visit, but mom could die very soon. Please come._

 _Love,_

 _Mary_

I fell back on the old mattress that served as a bed. I let the note, and three tickets fall from my hand onto the ground. What was I going to do now? I didn't want to visit. I didn't need my family. I hate them. But if Mom was dying… I didn't want to see any of my family, especially Mom, and Mary. But I couldn't just let Mom die without visiting.

None of them understood anything. I could hear their voices echoing in my head, ' _Well, it's not like they didn't know this might happen.' Mary had said, 'After all they're just agents, it's their job to do this.' I tensed,_

" _Mary," I said, "That doesn't mean that-"_

" _Well no," she interrupted, "I didn't want them to die either, but it's not like they didn't know the risks. I mean, I don't want you to die. But it's not like you didn't sign up for it." She frowned, "If it was one of the night watch kids it wouldn't be okay. They normally don't understand what they're doing. But an agent should."_

" _All sorts of things can happen during a job." I said, frowning, "Oftentimes_ I _don't know the risks involved." Mary shrugged,_

" _Well you should, you could die if you aren't careful. Just like those agents just last week, or like your night watch pals, you know, from when you were little."_

It wasn't a big deal. Not even a full blown fight, but it upset me more than almost anything she had said before. It was almost as if she was saying it was okay for them to die, because they chose that job. As if it never occurred to her that we didn't _want_ to do this.

Then, when I got back to my apartment, she had the nerve to ask for more money! I already sent her half of my earnings, what more did she want? If I charged the agency's anymore they wouldn't hire me. There's only so much you can do as a freelance agent. How much does it cost to take care of two people anyway!

It didn't justify what I had said though. Why had I said that anyway, I didn't hate them. I loved them because they were my family, and disliked them, almost to the point of hate, because of who I was. I rolled over and felt my leg bump the little box on my bed.

I sat up and grabbed it, tore off the paper, opened the lid, and looked inside.

There were two things in the box. One of the things was a picture frame, containing a photograph of my family. It was clearly more recent than the one Tia had showed me. My mother looked older, and my sisters were all taller. I wasn't in this one. I set it on my bed and turned to the other thing.

It was an old sketchbook. The leather cover was covered with stains and small tears. I opened it. On the first page was an absolutely hideous drawing of my old friend John. I flipped through the rest of the book, pausing every now and then, to give an okay drawing a look over. I set it down next to the picture frame, and picked up the letter, and the tickets. I looked it over again.

I decided what I was going to do. I dropped the letter, but took the tickets with me as I headed downstairs. I could hear Lockwood, and George talking in the library. Holly had already left, I completely missed her. When I came in they both stopped talking and looked at me. I sat down in my usual chair and threw the tickets on the table.

"I'm going to visit my mother. She's sick. You guys can come if you want." I felt their eye's on me and I looked away. "The train is departing at six in the morning the day after tomorrow." I risked a glance back at my comrades. They seemed to be having a silent conversation with their eyes. George took off his glasses and rubbed them on his shirt, Lockwood brushed his forelock out of his eyes.

All at once they turned to look at me.

"Alright!" Cried Lockwood, "We need a vacation anyway, we're coming with you!" He flashed me his trademark smile, and I couldn't help but smile back. Unsure of whether I was glad they were coming or not.

Two days later we stood on the platform with three small duffel bags waiting for the train. I was practically sleeping standing up. Lockwood was bouncing about happily, and George was reading some boring book about theories of the other place, when the train arrived. When the doors slid open we went in and found our seats.

It was an old train, so we actually had our own compartment, it was like we were characters in _Harry Potter_ or something. I sat down and put my head on the table between myself and George. Lockwood slid into the seat besides me a moment later, holding a rolled up magazine that he proceeded to unroll, and read.

The train ride was long, and boring. I think I fell asleep partway through, because I somehow ended up with drool all over the side of my face. George also napped, although he slept the whole time, and snored horrendously loud. Once Lockwood finished his magazine he put his head in his slender hands, and looked over my head at the countryside we were passing.

"The train is stopping." said a cool voice from above my head, "Please take your bags with you when you exit the train."

"Next stop is ours." Said Lockwood excitedly. "We should probably wake up George." I leaned over the table, and poked his cheek. He didn't stir.

"It takes more than that to wake him up." Said Lockwood, "He sleeps like the dead on trains."

"He sleeps like the dead every night." I said dryly. Lockwood didn't reply. Instead he grabbed his magazine and rolled it up. Suddenly, with all the speed of a cheetah, he leaned across the table, and smacked George on top of his head. This woke George up. After a small argument about the proper way to wake sleeping people up, we prepared to disembark. The train stopped, and we got off. I stood on the platform, breathing in the fresh, clean air that London didn't have. I adjusted my duffle bag on my shoulder. It was time to go home.


	7. Chapter 7

My town was bitterly cold. I pulled my scarf tight around my neck. There was a little bit of snow on the ground. The streets were empty. I saw a few people walking around, but they looked jumpy, and scared.

"Why is everyone so frightened?" asked George quietly.

"I don't know." I whispered back. I didn't know why we were whispering. We walked about two miles, before I realized we were lost. Then we turned around and headed back in the other direction.

"How do you get lost in your own town?" George wondered.

"I haven't been here in awhile, okay?" I snapped. My nerves were beginning to fray. It was funny, I could go into a haunted house, capture and kill ghosts, escape relic-people. But when confronted with facing my family I got snippy. George was quiet after that. After some time I figured out where we were and led them to the residential street I lived on.

We got to my house, and I climbed up the steps to the door. The door had been painted since I left. It was no longer white, with peeling paint. It was smooth and red. My words rang in my head, 'I hate all of you!' Did they even want to see me anymore? Lockwood put his hand on my shoulder reassuringly. I could his warmth, seeping through my coat. I raised my hand to knock, and,

"Lucy!" I whirled around, surprising Lockwood, and George, who jumped backwards.

"Skull?" I asked tentatively, glancing around. A million questions rang in my head. What was the skull doing here? How did it get here? It's not like it grew legs and walked. Was it really the skull?

"I'm in a room with another ghost!" It said, so it was here, and I wasn't hallucinating."She's inside triple iron chains! Come get me!"

"Okay! I'm coming!" I said and moved to the door. Lockwood's grip on my shoulder tightened,

"The skull's here?" He asked, "What did it say?" Oh, right. I had to relay what it said.

"It said it's in a room with another ghost." I breathed, "The other ghost is inside chains." Lockwood's slender face scrunched up in confusion, he was going to ask me something else, but I knocked on the door before he could get the words out.

"Wait!" George said, "Something's not right here, how did-" He was interrupted when the door swung open, revealing a massive man. I was to busy trying to to worry about what Mary would say when she saw me to process this immediately.

He was taller than Lockwood, and more than twice his width. He had a square jaw, and was dressed in a pair of stained jeans, and an orange sweatshirt. He had small, piggy eyes that glared down at us. His head was shiney and was completely bald. I blinked at him. Who was he? Evidently not our friend, I decided when he stuck a hand out and reached to grab me. I jumped backwards into George, and we both went sprawling along the brick path that led to the door.

"Lucy!" yelled the skull, "Come get me, they keep trying to talk to me!" I didn't know how I could do that. What was this man doing in my old house. Where was my family? What was going on?

"Harold!" shouted the man, "They're here!" Another man appeared. He was short, and had a wild mane of curly red hair. He had gentle brown eyes, and a deceivingly innocent appearance.

The big man began to run at us. Lockwood leaped off the steps towards George and I. I scrambled to my feet and started to run. Lockwood was in front of me, George was behind me. And the big man was behind us, Harold behind him.

I heard voices, and something whizzed past us. I didn't think it was a bullet, I hadn't heard a gun go off, but I wasn't taking any chances. We ran. And ran. And ran. We ignored the stares of the few people who weren't cowering inside. I didn't know what they were shooting, but they didn't have very good aim, they kept missing the three sweaty bodies that was Lockwood, George, and I. We ran until we couldn't anymore, and then we hid together behind a shrub, in front of some poor soul's house.

"I think," Lockwood huffed, "we lost them." George didn't respond, and I was to busy trying to breathe to bother about an answer. It was a little tight in the bush, I was squeezed tightly between Lockwood, and George. I could feel their warmth.

"Who were those people?" George asked me. I shook my head,

"I don't know, but they had the skull."

"And some other ghost." Lockwood added. "Makes me wonder if your mother was never sick at all, Lucy. Maybe they just wanted us to go there." He closed his eyes, and leaned his head back. "Why they wanted us there is the question." Neither me, nor George had the answer.

We stayed, crouched behind the bush until the sun began to set. Then we snuck out, avoiding the two people we saw hurrying home. I saw a max total of four ghosts, all weak type ones, floating about without purpose. Lockwood said he had seem a few more, but altogether there weren't more than ten ghosts out.

"Why is everyone hiding inside if there aren't any ghosts?" I asked, quietly.

"I don't know, something fishy is going on here." George said, "I wish I knew what it was." Lockwood didn't answer. He was frowning at his feet, forelock hanging over his eye.

We got to the train station without anything out of the ordinary happening. Unless you count George having three thermoses of hot chocolate. I was glad he did, it was rich, and warm. It tasted how Portland Row smelled at Christmas time. We bought our tickets and waited around for about an hour. Nobody spoke. George was hungry, Lockwood was brooding, and I… I was worried about my family.

You shouldn't be worried about them, one side of me said, they think you enjoy risking your life. Worry about them, said my shoulder angel, they did all they could for you. I ended my internal argument by kicking an iron bench. I spent the rest of the time nursing my sore foot.

When the train arrived we hopped on and stored our duffel bags (which we had somehow managed to keep a hold of during our wild goose chase) in the overhead compartment. We sat down, and began the train ride home. I set my head in my palms and looked out the window, trying not to think about anything. It had started raining, and the water ran in rivulets down the pane, blocking my view. George pulled a notebook out of his bag and began writing something down. Lockwood was asking him about the best way to dry out his socks. We were all soaked from the knees down, and I could tell it was bugging Lockwood. It was a funny thing about him, he hated getting wet. I listened to them for a bit, then, when I grew bored of the conversation spaced out.

"Lucy!" Someone said,

"What?" I asked, jerking out of a daydream in which we solved a huge mystery and I got a raise.

"You said you heard the skull right?" George asked. I nodded,

"Yeah, it was inside my house." He scribbled something in his notebook.

"Did it mention what the other ghost was like?" He said.

"No, just that she was inside triple iron chains." He wrote something else down, shut the notebook and put it up. "Why?" I asked, "What are you doing?"

"He's putting together all the details from this trip." Lockwood said, "From when the skull vanished and-" He looked at me, "and we left. To now." He finished lamely. _And when Tia came_. I thought. I wished the whole stupid mess would vanish, and we could go back to Portland Row, back to work, back to my home.

"Oh." I said, and resumed my daydream. "What are we going to do now?" I wondered out loud, to worried to see what I would do with all my extra money.

"Go back home." Lockwood said wearily, "Then we're going to sleep."

"And after that?" I questioned. I wanted answers, I didn't want to have to figure out what to do next. Lockwood didn't respond immediately,

"We'll figure out then." He said, when he did answer. He seemed at just as much of a loss as I did. That shook me up a little. Lockwood _always_ knew what to do.

The train pulled into the station, and we got off. We got a night cab back home, dropped our bags in the hallway, and went to the library, where we sat down wearily. George got made us some tea. Mine had a little to much milk, but right then it was the best tea I had ever tasted. I set my tea down, kicked off my boots and slouched down on the couch. As far as physical exhaustion goes, I had gone through far worse. But my mind was so tired, tired of worrying about my family. Tired of worrying about whether I hated them or not.

"Why did I have to say that?" I whispered quietly.

"What did you say Luce?" Lockwood asked, from his perch in his chair.

"Nothing." I said.

"Oh. Okay." He said. I looked at him from my vantage point on the sofa. He was leaning back, with his eyes closed, sitting on one of his slender legs. I closed my eyes, and let myself sink into the sofa. It would all be okay, I thought. Because I have a home here.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm sorry for the short chapter, my internet has been messed up all day and I haven't been able to make much progress. I'm moving so I probably won't have internet for a few days, I promise I won't give up on this story though. Thank you for reading, enjoy.**

I woke up to the sound shriek of the kettle. I moaned and pulled the blanket over my head. The screeching didn't stop. I propped myself up on my elbow and shouted,

"Get the kettle already!" Then I layed back down, and prepared myself for another hour of sleep when I heard someone come into the room. Whoever it was, jerked my blanket away. I shouted and scrambled to get it. It was George, wearing the ugliest brown pajamas I had ever seen, he was holding my blanket in one hand, and a book in the other. I glared at him. He just dropped the blanket on the floor and went to get the kettle. Oh, how I wanted to hit him. I heard shuffling and glanced over at Lockwood, who was still in his chair. He was also covered by an old blanket. His hair was even more rumpled than it looked during the day, and he had pillow (chair?) marks on his cheek. He shuffled around a bit, then settled down. We back must've fallen asleep last night then, and George got us blankets. I had been falling asleep in odd places to much lately.

I got up and trudged upstairs to my attic bedroom to get dressed in clean clothes. When I came back downstairs I felt much more awake, and George had finished breakfast. I dished myself up some eggs and sat down, trying to ignore the way his pants were sagging.

"What are we going to do today?" I asked. He took off his glasses and rubbed them on his shirt in an agitated sort of way.

"Figure out what those people were doing in your house." He cracked another egg into the pan.

"My _old_ house." I said. "I don't live there anymore." He shrugged,

"Doesn't matter to me, I don't care where you live as long as you save my skin once a week." I snorted,

"Once a week? I save you on a daily basis." after that we got into an argument about how many times he needed to save me to get even. My argument was that I didn't need saving. It was so _normal_ to be arguing about something so trivial. I wished it could distract me from reality, at least for a little while. What about last night? My mind said, what about those men? What about those mean words you said to your sister?

I was about to mention the time George hit himself on the head with his own rapier and almost fell out of the iron circle when the phone rang. I went to get it, but Lockwood was already there, answering it with a smile. He was still wearing yesterday's clothes, and still had pillow marks on his face. But he still managed to look elegant, and composed.

"Hello," He was saying, "Lockwood and co- Oh! Yes Ms. Fittes." I froze. Lockwood's smile dimmed a bit, although he still sounded pleasant. "No, of course not." He said, George had abandoned the eggs and come to listen as well, "Our help? How so?" Penelope (Marissa?) Fittes wanted our help? Why? I leaned in closer, trying to make out her words.

"What do you think she wants our help for?" George asked me. I shrugged, and motioned for him to be quiet so I could hear what Lockwood was saying.

"No we haven't. Why would someone want to attack you?" He asked. _Attack?_ What was happening? "Yes, okay, we'll be there. Thank you." Lockwood turned around, and practically ran in George, and I.

"What did she want?" George asked,

"Was she being attacked?" I asked. I almost hoped she was, she knew about the other side, and wanted us to keep quiet about it. Her friend had almost stabbed Lockwood, and she could talk to type three ghosts like I could. At least that's we assumed.

"I'll tell you on the way." He said, "Get ready."

We prepared as if we were going to hunt a ghost, iron chains, filings, greek fire, everything. We got into a cab and set off. I was in the middle, trying to ignore George's breath on my neck as we leaned towards Lockwood to hear what this was all about.

"Fittes is being attacked." He said, "Not the whole agency, but one particular team, apparently they have each been attack by powerful type twos within the last week or so."

"They're agents." I said, "I doubt it's that unusual to be attacked by ghosts." Lockwood smiled,

"Ah, but the ghosts were inside the bombs that Rotwell used before. Apparently one girl di" He said, eyes shining. Now that got me interested. His smile dimmed, "She wants us to take care of it quietly. She thinks of us as her lackeys already." I didn't know how to respond. Inevitably, my mind turned back to our desperate flight last night, and the strange men in my house. What had they been doing there? I frowned, and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. I knew I shouldn't worry, but I couldn't help it.

We around a corner sharply and I smashed my face into George's shoulder. It was wasn't very comfortable, but it was better than hitting Lockwood's shoulder, his was sharp and bony, and probably would have broken my nose. I peeled myself off of him and leaned back, I didn't like taking the middle, you could never get comfortable.

When we arrived I was slightly surprised we weren't at Fittes headquarters. Instead we were at a nice, fairly new looking home. It had two stories and was painted a blinding white color. One of the windows in the front was broken. I slid out of the car and grabbed a duffel bag. Together we walked up to the door, and knocked.


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm back! Sorry for the wait, because I was gone for a few days I'm giving you an extra long chapter. Thank you for reading, enjoy!**

A small boy answered the door, he was shorter than George, and had a look of innocence, and frailty that made him seem even younger than he probably was. His face was pale and narrow, his eyes big and gentle. The only lively thing about him was his red hair, it stood up brightly on his head, drawing all eyes like a beacon.

"Hi." He said, even his voice was soft. Lockwood stepped forward, giving a warm smile,

"Hello, I'm Lockwood, these our my associates, Lucy Carlyle, and George Cubbins." He pointed at us each in turn.

"I know who you are." The boy said, looking up at him, "I read the papers, are you here to talk to mama?"

"I believe so." Said Lockwood.

"Okay, follow me." We followed him. I shut the door behind us and looked around.

The house was clean, orderly, and seemed to be in good condition. We were standing in a long hallway, there was a flight of stairs at the end of the hall, leading up to the next story. There were two doors on either side of us, I peeked into them as we passed them. The first one on the left was a kitchen, it had a crisp white tablecloth, four chairs. The one on the right was the one with the broken window. There was a blue tarp taped over the hole, but I could still feel the cold air blowing in through the gaps. It was a living room with two small couches, and a coffee table in between. The couches were ripped and the coffee table was on it's side. Shelves lined the walls, the objects they had held were flung all about the room. The next two doors held a dining room, and a room filled with cardboard boxes.

The boy ignored all of those rooms, and climbed up the stairs. The second story looked remarkably like the first, the only difference being that there was no staircase, and all the doors were shut. The boy led us to the second door on the right, and waved us in.

It was a spacious bedroom, if a little on the cavernous side. The far wall was taken up by an enormous bed, containing a small, frail woman. There was a bookcase filled with large paperback volumes, and an armoire with a picture frame on it. I couldn't see the picture. We walked forward to the bed.

The woman in it looked like an older, female version of her son. She seemed to be maybe in her fifties, with red hair that was graying at the roots. She was remarkably thin, almost skeletal. She was wearing a loose fitting white dress. A thick quilt came up to her waist, an aura of gentle happiness surrounded her, although a current of sadness ran through her. She smiled.

"Good morning, you must be Lockwood and co?" Her voice was soft, pleasant, the kind of voice that I couldn't do even if I tried. Lockwood nodded,

"Yes ma'am" Lockwood said quietly. Something about her made us want to whisper, it was like we were with a dying person in a hospital.

"I'm glad to see you. I hope you can take care of our problem." She clasped her hands, and looked down at them. "I am Elena Medacab, last night my daughter was returning from work when something was thrown through the window. It hit the ground, and cracked. My daughter said that a visitor came out," She took a breath, "I don't know much about visitors, but I could tell this one was bad because _I_ could feel it. I came downstairs and saw my daughter on the floor, already turning blue. I'm afraid that's all the information I have. My girl could have told you more, but she died last night." The room was quiet. If the woman could sense the ghost it must have been pretty strong. The source was probably in the front room with the hole in the window.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Medacab, thank you." Lockwood said, casting his eyes downward. She smiled sadly,

"I'm sorry you had to come here so early. I believe the reasoning behind this decision was that you could have time to familiarize yourself with the house." Really? I thought it was so that Penelope/Marissa Fittes could show us who was in charge. She continued, "I will be leaving now. The house will be empty until ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

"We'll do our best to help you." Lockwood said, "we'll make good use of all the time we have here."

"Thank you, there is tea in the cupboard left of the sink, and a jar of cookies next to it. Please help yourself." We all nodded and turned to leave, I shut the door behind us with a soft click. We headed downstairs, Lockwood leading. After dumping our duffel bags by the door we set off exploring. First we went to the front room first.

It was cold inside, and it would only get colder. All the furniture was out of place. Picture frames and scented candles lay all around the floor. There were also some books, a small clock, and a pot of lavender. We gazed at the mess on the floor, how were we going to find the source inside all of this? We poked around inside there for awhile but found nothing of interest. After that we looked in the room with all the boxes. We found only one thing in there, cardboard boxes. The dining room was plain, with a large square table and four chairs. The table was covered in a light purple cloth and had a vase of lavender in the middle. There were four white placemats, each set neatly with plates, and silverware.

We were about to head upstairs when Mrs Medacab came down. She walked slowly, and wobbled occasionally. Her son was helping her, holding her wrinkled hand in his small one. She smiled at us and hobbled out the door. We climbed the stairs,

"So," Lockwood said, "We already know what one of these rooms contains, that means one door each. I choose this one!" He flung open the nearest door dramatically. He went in. I went for the one on opposite him. It was another bedroom, there was a bed in one corner, it's blankets were on the floor next to it, and the pillow was on the ground. There was a bookcase that was overflowing with books. A desk in the corner held more volumes, although these looked like textbooks, opposed to the the books in the bookcase which seemed to be mostly fantasy. There was a closet which I peeked into. It was filled with dark clothes, and Fittes uniforms. This must be the dead girl's room then. I snooped around in her bookcase, but didn't find anything unusual. I gave up my search, and went to talk to Lockwood. He was in a room that was probably the little boys, there were small pictures in crayon taped to the wall, and the bed was crowded with stuffed animals.

"Found anything?" He asked,

"Nope, what about you?" He held up a small plastic bag,

"I found a secret stash of candy, want a piece?" I grabbed one,

"I meant anything related to the case."

"Oh, in that case no." I unwrapped the candy, and popped it into my mouth. It was green apple. We went outside to find George, he was sitting on the floor eating some chocolate that had come from his pocket.

"Nothing." He said sullenly, "Just a bathroom." He finished the chocolate bar and stuffed it into his pants pocket, "I don't understand why we have to be here so early. I was looking forward to a day at the archives. We were going to see what we could find about those people in your house, Lucy." Oh yeah. I had almost forgotten about that. It just seemed so normal to be going about a house looking for signs of supernatural activity.

"Yes, that was strange." said Lockwood. He glanced at me, dark eyes glittering with some unknown emotion. "As for your question George, I believe that it's a blatant show of power from Penelope Fittes." He turned around, and headed for the stairs, "Let's go down to the kitchen, I'm rather hungry, and those cookies should hit the spot." We followed him down, and took our seats in the breakfast nook. Lockwood grabbed the cookies, and began to make tea.

"So," he said, "Penelope Fittes wants us to get rid of the ghost here, then figure out who is targeting this team."

"What about the other members, of the team I mean," George began, "You said they had been attacked too."

"Yes," Lockwood said, "But they managed to dispose of their sources, this one is quite a bit more powerful." I raised my hand, "Yes Lucy?"

"Will we get paid for this?"

"Yeah," said Lockwood, "but not as much as I would have liked. Who wants tea?" We all did, he poured three cups then sat down between me and George. After we finished lunch, we all wandered off to find a way to kill time until dark. I grabbed a sketch pad from my duffel bag, and sat in the kitchen drawing. George had found a book somewhere, and was flipping through it absent mindedly. Lockwood had vanished.

We waited until dark, then put up our various forms of entertainment, and began to take measurements. The room with the broken window was frigid now, the coldest in the house. I couldn't tell whether it was because of the cold winter air, or because of the visitor I was sure lurked there. After collecting readings everywhere in the house we agreed that the source was in the sitting room. We rigged up two iron circles. One in the room of question once we had moved some of the junk on the floor, and one in the girls room, which was above the sitting room. I was positioned with Lockwood in the downstairs one, George was upstairs. I adjusted the circle, checked my belt, and ran out of things to do. Lockwood sat with his knees up to his chest, frowning slightly. I sat down next to him and began fiddling with my rapier. What was wrong with me? I wasn't normally this anxious on a case, it must've been because of those people in my house. Yes. That was it.

"Lucy?" I looked at Lockwood, he had stretched out his long legs and was looking at me in the dark. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." I said shortly, "I'm fine, why?"

"Well, for one your house is filled with strange people. And you've seemed a little twitchy since we lost the skull." Stupid Lockwood, how could he be so perceptive. I didn't think I was being twitchy.

"Well I'm fine." I said a little to sharply. He raised an eyebrow, but wisely shut up. I sat brooding when the miasma began to build. I was about to ask Lockwood for a piece of gum when the ghost appeared.


	10. Chapter 10

It floated a few feet beyond the iron chains, hovering just off the floor. It was an old man, stooped in the back, with large, gnarly hands. I couldn't make out any details of his face.

"Lockwood," I hisses, "can you see his face?" Lockwood had drawn his rapier, and was standing in position.

"Yeah," He hissed back, "It's pretty gross. Be grateful you can't see it." I was.

" _I didn't do anything…"_ he moaned piteously, " _I don't know why…"_

"Did it say something?" Lockwood asked me,

"It say's he didn't do anything, and he didn't know why." I answered. There was some ghost fog now, up to my knees, and still rising.

"I doesn't seem to be aggressive," Lockwood said, "If weー" The ghost interrupted him with a violent psychic wail.

" _I didn't do it! Why would you do this to me if I didn't do anything!"_ He cried, his hands reached out, but stopped at the iron line. He shrieked, and tried again.

"Scratch that," Lockwood said, "definitely aggressive."

"Who did it to you?" I asked as calmly as I could. In the semi darkness, I felt rather than saw Lockwood frown. I didn't like upsetting Lockwood, but I had solved cases like this before. On the upside the ghost calmed down. He hovered by the iron line,

" _I didn't do it, you have no right… "_

"What did he say?" Lockwood asked. No matter how much he disapproved of me talking to the ghosts he was still curious when I got them to speak.

"He didn't do it, you have no right." I said quietly, "Yes, you're right," I said louder, "We have no right. Who did this to you?"

" _You have no right… I didn't do it… You have no right!"_ He practically screamed, and I covered my ears. It didn't do much, the wail still hurt my ears. It was loud and powerful. The scream stopped abruptly, although I could still hear a faint buzzing sound. He resumed his attack on the circle, much more violently now. I heard footsteps in the hall, and George burst in, rapier at the ready. His piggy eyes took in the scene before him in an instant, and he darted towards the circle. I didn't know George could move so fast, but it wasn't fast enough. The ghost turned towards him, hand outstretched. George slashed at it with his sword and ran around it. Suddenly the ghost had four hand, then six.

"Changer!" I yelled at him. I didn't know if he had heard, but if he had he wasn't doing anything with the extra bit of information.

"Plan G!" Lockwood yelled, what was that? I didn't remember what plan G was. Lockwood, and his infernal plans. Instead of asking what plan G was like any sensible person would, I ignored him completely, and began to go save George.

The instant I stepped out of the safety of the iron line I felt the temperature drop. I ran to where George was fighting desperately with the visitor. I grabbed a salt bomb, and threw it as hard as I could. It exploded, showering both the ghost, and George in salt. The visitor shriek in pain, and recoiled for a minute. A minute was all I needed, I grabbed George's wrist with my free hand and pulled him to the circle where Lockwood had another salt bomb ready. I felt the ghost regain his composure behind us. I looked over my shoulder, and immediately wished I hadn't. The ghost, now completely made up of hands, was lunging for us. I ran faster, dragging George behind me. I felt the air grow frigid as it got close, then something exploded behind us, and I felt hot salt land on the back of my neck. I made a mental note to thank Lockwood later.

George, and I flew inside the circle, and landed in a heap. George was on top of me, I couldn't breathe. I groaned, and shoved him over.

"Are you guys alright?" Lockwood was asking, I nodded and, sat up. We were sitting, (or in George's case lying.) Inside of a whirlwind of hands. George moaned, I kicked him,

"Get up," I snapped, "We're not done with this yet." He didn't respond, just held up his arm.

The fabric of his coat had been burned away, the skin underneath was blue tinted.

Ghost touch.

I felt panic course through my veins. Lockwood leaped forward, and grabbed his arm. After inspecting it for a minute he looked at me. His dark eyes shone in the dark.

"We have to take care of this quickly Luce," He said, his voice was low, and he was speaking quickly, "I'll distract it, you find the source." I wanted to argue, there was no way Lockwood could handle that thing on his own. But he smiled, and I forgot what I was going to say. Then he was out of the circle, leaping towards the visitor. I took a breath, and braced myself.

Then I too, left the relative safety of the iron.


	11. Chapter 11

The source, where was it? I began digging through all the junk on the floor. Hurry, hurry, my mind urged me. If you don't hurry George will die. I tried listening, but all I could hear was wailing from the visitor.

Suddenly I had an idea, I grabbed a silver net and unfolded it. Then I draped it over the nearest pile of stuff.

Nothing happened. I threw it over another mound, still nothing. My theory was that if I continued doing this eventually I'd hit the source, then I could pick out which one was actually the source later.

I wondered how Lockwood was faring, I didn't look though, I was far to busy with my task. The net was cold in my hands when I picked it up that time, I laid it down over some pictures, and a broken seashell.

The moment the silver fluttered down the psychic activity stopped, the ghost disappeared, the wails of pain stopped, for a moment, even time seemed to stop. Then I caught my breath, and ran back to George.

His arm was swelling now, and the blue tint had spread. When I touched his hand it was cold. I heard Lockwood running into the kitchen. While he called an ambulance I began to pack up our materials. I kept glancing at George as I worked, his pale face, and crooked glasses, stared back at me. He appeared to have fallen asleep. _What if he died?_ Said a small part of my brain, and I almost believed he would die for a second. But he wouldn't die. He couldn't.

Lockwood came back, and began to help me with the chains. His pale face had a bit of a flush to it, and his hair was rumpled. A drop of sweat dripped down the side of his face and he wiped it away absentmindedly. We didn't speak. After we packed everything up we sat down to wait. What was taking the ambulance so long?

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, I stood up, and walked over to the silver net I had draped over the source so long ago. As I began to run my fingers over all the items below the net, I somehow kept thinking of the Skull. How it would be cheering as George swelled up into a cold blue sausage. My fingers reached a hard, cold object, and I knew it was the source. The moment I made contact with it I felt confusion, and pain. I jerked my hand back from the largest piece of the broken seashell. I wrapped the silver net around it, and sealed it off once it was completely covered.

I walked back to Lockwood, and George with it in my hands when blue, and red lights shining through the tarp announced the arrival of the ambulance.

People wearing white uniforms came in and took George into the white van, where I assumed they gave him the shot. Somebody else was talking to Lockwood, I just kind of stood around, waiting to hear if George would be okay.

Somebody put a hand on my shoulder and I flinched. It was Lockwood, he had a gash on one arm, but other than that seemed completely unhurt. That was good. He smiled at me wearily,

"Ready to go?" He asked,

"Will George be okay?" I asked.

"Yes," He replied, I felt relief diffuse panic, and suddenly felt very tired, "Let's go burn the source, then let's go home." I nodded and picked up my duffel bag, and the source. Lockwood grabbed both his, and George's bag. We hailed a night cab and piled in. It seemed very empty without George in it. Me and Lockwood seemed so far apart now that I wasn't in the middle. Don't die, George. I thought, but wait, Lockwood said he would be okay. George was okay. We reached the furnaces and I ran inside to give them the seashell. When I came back Lockwood was staring out his window, I sat down and scratched the back of my arm. I felt dizzy, and my stomach churned. I needed something to eat. When we arrived at Portland Row I grabbed my bag and left Lockwood to pay the driver and bring in the rest of our stuff. I unlocked the door and let the warmth inside envelop me in a soft cloud. I dropped the duffel bag heavily on the floor and took off my boots. Lockwood came in as I was hanging up my coat. I headed for the kitchen to put the kettle on. As I got out three, no, _two_ mugs, Lockwood sat down in his usual chair and reached for the cookie plate in the middle of the table. As he munched on a snickerdoodle I poured tea and brought the mugs over.

"Thanks." Lockwood said and took a sip of his tea. I added milk to mine, then followed him.

"What are we going to do now?" I asked. Lockwood sighed and stirred his tea,

"I'm not sure, we were going to find out what was going on at your house, but now with George…" He didn't need to finish his sentence. I scratched my arm and took a healthy swig of tea. My stomach cramped with hunger and I reached for a cookie. It tasted like plastic in my mouth. The kitchen seemed so empty without George in it. I never really realized how much I appreciated him till now.

"Lockwood," I said suddenly, "Can you turn down the thermostat?" It was so hot in here, I was sweating. Lockwood frowned thoughtfully,

"It's not that warm in here," he said, I looked up at him in confusion,

"Are you kidding me?" I asked incredulously, "It's sweltering in here." He opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance.

My stomach lurched, I lunged for the trashcan faster than I thought I could. Then I was vomiting my cookie up. I heard Lockwood exclaim in surprise, his chair scraped the floor as he stood up and hurried over to me. He kneeled next to me and pulled my hair back from my face. His warm hand rubbed my back gently as I heaved. The fit ended slowly, and I hovered over the bin for a few minutes after I was done. Lockwood stood up and walked to the table, my back felt cold where his hand had been. He came back over with a my cup and handed it to me. I took it gratefully,

"Alright." Lockwood said, "I don't know how to take care of a sick person. So we're just going to have to wait until George gets back to make you well again." I sat back from the garbage bin and took another sip of tea. "I do know that you should sleep, and drink plenty of water, keep a bowl with you, and not eat anything hard to digest." He sighed, "I never really get sick much, and George always takes medicine and gets well right away. So I honestly have no idea what to do."

I stood up and made my way to the my attic bedroom, Lockwood helping me when I got dizzy, prattling on the whole time about things that help sick people. I wasn't listening, all I wanted to do was sleep. I made my way into bed somehow, Lockwood ran downstairs and came back up a minute later with a glass of water and a large mixing bowl. He set both on my bedside table, and left me to my misery. I heard the bell ring, then voices talking. I was glad George was alright, I would've felt really bad if he'd died.

No matter how hard I tried I couldn't sleep. Eventually I gave up and reached for my old sketchbook, the one Mary had given me. I flipped through it idly, bored. My family… Where were they now? What were they doing? I put the book up and fell back onto my mattress. I was cold, so I snuggled beneath the blanket, trying to get warm. But no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get warm. Then all of the sudden I was boiling alive, sweating, panting, anything to cool me down. Eventually, after dry heaving into the bowl, my body calmed down, and allowed me to sleep.

 **George**

My arm burned with cold. A phenomenon I didn't think could happen. I was tired and wanted to sleep. But as always as soon as I got back Lockwood was blabbering on about some stupid thing. The moment I opened the door he was on me. First he looked at my arm, and after assessing my condition. (tired, and wanting to sleep) he gave me the news.

"Lucy's been sick, do you know what to do?"

" _Sick?_ Lucy?" I asked in disbelief. Lucy didn't get sick.

"Yeah," Lockwood said, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, "She threw up in the trashcan over there," He pointed to the kitchen. "And she was complaining about being hot, even though she was shivering." I groaned, just what I needed, a sick person to take care of,

"Where is she now?" I asked,

"Upstairs," Lockwood replied, as he finally, _finally,_ let me inside, "I told her to sleep. Do you think it's because she's worried? I think I read somewhere that people get sick when they're worried. Her family's been missing, the skull too, and now you've been ghost touched." Lockwood you idiot, sometimes people just get sick.

"I'll look at her in the morning." I said grumpily. "And she better not spew on me."


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm sorry I haven't been updating, I'd like to say that I've been busy, but in truth I'm just being lazy. I'll try to get another chapter up by tonight to make up for it. Enjoy!**

"She looks awful, I wonder what she's got." That was George,

"Can you fix it?" Lockwood. I opened my eyes blearily. I was in my bedroom, George was standing next to me, his arm was in a sling, but other than that he looked okay. Lockwood was sitting on the end of the bed. I felt better than I had last night, but wasn't convinced I was okay yet.

"Shut up…" I moaned and turned away from them.

"Luce! Good morning!" Lockwood said happily, "How are you feeling?" I ignored him, and tried to go back to sleep. "We were just talking about how to help you out, any ideas?" I groaned, jeez Lockwood, take a hint will you? I scratched my arm furiously, it itched so bad!

"Is there something wrong with your arm?" George asked.

"Just itchy." I mumbled into the pillow, I couldn't stop scratching even though I knew that it would make it worse.

"Let me see." Lockwood commanded. When I ignored him he pulled up my sleeve with his long fingers. I felt surprise in the air. What was wrong with my arm? I sat up and twisted my arm to see. It was an awful sight. There was a small black dot on my arm, and the skin around it was puffy and red. My whole arm was swollen.

For a minute no one said anything, we just stared at the strange injury.

"I think I know why you're sick." George said finally.

"What do we do about it?" Lockwood asked, looking first at George, then at me. He grabbed my arm and examined the ugly portion of it.

"Well," Said George, "It's probably an infection. You know when一"

"I know what an infection is!" Lockwood cried, "Just tell me how to fix it!" I blinked at both of them, there were both talking so fast, and so loudly. I just wanted to sleep.

"You should wash it out, and wrap it, keep it clean. Keep fever down, if there is one." Why such a long list? Lockwood reached out and put a cool hand on my forehead, it felt nice. He frowned and pulled away.

"You're burning up." He said.

"I am?" I asked. It was hot up here, that would explain a lot.

Suddenly I got very dizzy, very fast. I swayed, trying to ignore the fact that the room was tilting sideways. Three things didn't move though, those were the three hands pushing me down into the pillows, two slender, one pudgy. I shut my eyes tight, and tried to ignore how awful I felt.

 **George**

I lowered Lucy down with my free hand. The other one was a little busy. Lockwood helped and soon she was laying down on her side. Her face was scrunched up, eyes shut tight. Jeez, for Lucy to act like this she must be _really_ sick.

"Okay," I said, "don't panic." To late. Lockwood, ever a man of action, was already taking off down the stairs. Presumably for some water and a bandage. I sat down on the edge of the bed where Lockwood had been and put the back of my hand on her forehead as he had done. Lockwood was right, she was burning up. She whimpered, _Lucy whimpering?_ Mind blown, I didn't even think she was physically able to do that.

Lockwood came back up with a bowl of water, some gauze, and a cup of water. He set the water on the table and began dunking the bandage in the bowl. I wanted to help, but of course, with my hand how it was I was forced to watch as Lockwood did all the work. Once he had it wet he scrubbed at her wrist until it turned even more red. Then he wrapped it up. He cut it, and taped it shut with a flourish.

"Done!" He cried. I surveyed his wrapping job. It was decent. Lucy curled up tighter, whimpered again ( _again!_ ) and then relaxed. Lockwood frowned, and brushed her hair out of her face.

"Lucy?" Lockwood asked. She opened her eyes a little. "You're going to be feeling better soon, we have to go for a bit, will you be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be alright." she whispered. "Where are you going?"

"You don't need to worry about that right now, just rest." I expected Lucy to protest, say that she needed to know. But she just nodded slightly and closed her eyes again. It was quite unsettling really, we needed to get old Luce back pronto.

Lockwood stood up and we left. Lockwood shut the door behind us softly.

"Where are we going Lockwood?" I finally asked. I really wanted to know.

"To the archives." Lockwood said with enthusiasm, "We're going to find out why Lucy's old house is inhabited by strange people!"

Oh no. Lockwood and the archives were a bad combination. I was about to ask if he'd rather stay, when I realized he probably needed to do something. It was a funny thing about him, if he wasn't working, he had to be doing something productive. When there was nothing to do he lounged around, and read in a bored sort of way. It made me wonder what would happen to him once his sight went. He only had three more years at most.

"George!" I blinked,

"What?" I asked. Lockwood was looking at me, he seemed slightly irritated.

"Where should we start? I've asked you that at least three times."

"Oh." I said, "Well, we should look up all the recent events in that town and see if we can get any clues from that." Lockwood nodded and lept the rest of the way down the stairs to call a cab. I sighed, it was going to be a very long afternoon.

After about an hour at the archives, I found something interesting.

"Lockwood," I hissed, he looked up from the newspaper he was reading, "I think I found something. He looked excited and we went to a table to read. I spread it out.

"It's fairly recent," Lockwood said, pointing at the date, "maybe from about two months ago?" I nodded, and we read the article. Here's what it said.

 _Last night the bodies of Mary Carlyle, and her mother Anna Carlyle were discovered hidden inside of a lilac bush four miles north of town. The area around the bodies showed signs of a struggle. The cause of death is unknown. All citizens are encouraged to remain inside when possible, and to take care of appointments before sundown. Anyone with information, or suspicions related to the case please call…_

There was a phone number beneath it. Lockwood, and I were silent. I looked at the date again, Lockwood was right, it was from about two months ago. Right after Lucy had come back to us, why hadn't she been informed? I left the article on the table and went back to work. Partly to see if there was anything else to find, partly because I didn't know what to say. Lockwood was re-reading the article.

I skimmed through a couple other articles and newspaper clippings before I found something else. I grabbed it and put it next to the article announcing the death of Mary, and Anna Carlyle. Lockwood leaned over my shoulder, and together we read another article.

 _On Monday, Daniel Notskova was arrested for crimes of theft, and manslaughter. He has admitted to killing Mary, and Anna Carlyle. As well as Henry Duskin and Violet Ini. His motives are unknown. He has been sentenced to life imprisonment. All citizens are recommended to remain indoors, we don't know who he could be working with. If you have any information related to this topic please bring it to the police station. The funeral service for Mary Carlyle and her mother will be held at Green Cemetery, tomorrow at noon._

"Well," Lockwood said, "we've figured out why everyone there was so jumpy. But how come there are people in her house, and how come nobody's noticed?" I rubbed my arm, it was tingling unpleasantly.

"I'm not sure." I said, "But I think everything's connected though. Think about it, the skull, which only Lucy could talk to is at her house, her family's been一" I hesitated, "killed…" I continued. An idea suddenly came to Lockwood,

"What if," He began, "the other ghost with the skull was also a type three!" It made sense, perfect sense!

"But why was her family killed then?" I wondered out loud. It was odd, we talked about murder victims all the time when we were researching, but with Lucy's family, it seemed like we were breaking a taboo by talking about them at all. We speculated for a bit, but could find no explanation for their murder. After that we went back to looking, I found two other murder articles, and Lockwood re-discovered that he hates the archives. I was about to start looking up the names of the murdered to see if there was any connection when Lockwood came over to me.

"I'm going to go check on Lucy, do you know how long you'll be here?" I shrugged, and gathered up all the articles,

"I don't know, it depends. I'll try to be back before dark." Lockwood nodded, smiled, and ran off. I heard him bump into someone, then he was apologizing, then he was off


	13. Chapter 13

I woke up slowly. I didn't feel as bad as I did before. I sat up and went to scratch my arm, but found it wrapped neatly in gauze. When did that happen? I wanted to peek beneath the bandage, but figured that wouldn't be a good idea. I heard someone bustling around downstairs, and I decided to brave the stairs. I grabbed the bowl, and began my quest. When I reached the kitchen I peeked my head inside first. When it wasn't a serial killer, a thief, or someone awful I relaxed and came inside,

"Hi Holly." I said and sat down. I hoped she wouldn't mention Tia, I still wasn't quite over that yet. She looked up briefly from the dishes she was doing,

"Oh, good afternoon Lucy!" Afternoon? I looked at the clock, she was right, when did it get to be two o'clock?

"Where's George, and Lockwood?" I asked. I still hadn't seen George, and I was still anxious about his arm.

"They went to the archives," Holly said, "there's a note on the thinking cloth. How did George get this stuck on the pan?" While she scrubbed I leaned over to read the note. It was written in George's messy scrawl in red. We're at the archives, back soon -G I frowned,

"Lockwood went to the archives?" I asked, why would he do that, he hates the archives. Holly shrugged,

"I'm not sure, Lockwood called and said he'd be back soon." He was coming back before George then, guess he couldn't stand the peace and quiet. "I'm going to have to leave soon, Lucy. I'm sorry I haven't been much help lately."

"Don't worry about it." I said, and meant it, "We'll be fine." I wondered if it would be worth it to try some tea. I really wanted some, and I was thirsty, but if I had some it might awaken my stomach. I was still debating it when Holly left. A few minutes later I heard Lockwood come home. He saw me in the kitchen, and sat down next to me, looking concerned.

"Lucy, how are you feeling?" I shrugged,

"Better than yesterday, by the way, when did my arm get wrapped up?" Lockwood raised an eyebrow elegantly,

"You don't remember?" What was he going on about?

"Remember what exactly?" I asked suspiciously,

"This morning, that's when we bandaged your arm." I frowned,

"That didn't happen."

"Yes it did."

"No it didn't."

"Are you telling me you don't remember this morning?" He asked me. I looked into his eyes,

"I just woke up, nothing happened before that." I begged him to believe me. He looked into my eyes for a minute. I felt like his dark eyes could see into my soul.

"So you don't remember."

"What happened this morning then?" I exclaimed in exasperation. Lockwood looked away,

"Oh, nothing much."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"Fine," Lockwood sighed, "We went up to check on you and you were sick. We looked at your arm and George figures it's an infection." I was satisfied he wasn't lying.

"Make me a cup of tea will you?" I asked. I resisted the urge to laugh when he jumped up and hurried to do my bidding. I was going to enjoy this. A few minutes later he set the cup down and added just the right amount of milk. He also had a cup, minus the milk.

"I know you're feeling better now." He said, not without some relief, "I know because you've been arguing with me."

"I can argue plenty more." I said as I sipped my tea. It was warm and comforting. "So why were you at the archives?" I asked casually. In truth I was dying to hear what was so pressing as to make Lockwood go to the library.

He froze,

"Just wanted to look some stuff up is all." He said nonchalantly, while avoiding my gaze. "Quite boring really. Have you seen Holly today?"

"Yes." I said shortly, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"What was I looking for?" He asked.

"Stuff, at the archives." I prodded him, what was he hiding? He didn't lie about stuff like this usually, just avoided it. If I pressed enough I should be able to get it out of him.

"Oh in a way…" he answered, "It was mostly George doing stuff, I wasn't reading most of the stuff he found. You should ask him." Stupid Lockwood.

"Okay, maybe I will." His eyes flashed, I think he just realized what he had done. George wasn't nearly as good at avoiding questions as he was.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, changing tack completely. I realized I was.

"Yes, get me some food." He grinned,

"Please?" I glared at him and stood up to get some myself. There wasn't much in the fridge, not much I could eat anyway. I looked at Lockwood, he looked at me.

"Please." I ground out. He put on his smile and stood up,

"Certainly, you sit there." He pointed at my chair. Despite myself I felt my lips pull up at the corners. With that Anthony Lockwood began whirling around the kitchen like a hurricane, leaving a mess behind him. We chatted amiably, about this and that as he cooked. I laughed so hard I though my sides would split when he told a story about the time George challenged him to a fencing duel.

It was so good to be back home, I thought. Oh how I had missed talking to Lockwood, and George the skull hadn't been good company while I was on my own. I sighed. The skull… Lockwood, unfortunately, noticed. He leaned over and peered at me,

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing." I said. Or more like I snapped. He sighed himself and sat down next to me.

"Luce, you don't act like this unless something is bothering you. Please talk to me. I looked at him. His face was wearing genuine concern quite convincingly.

"No. It's stupid." I said, and looked away. It was stupid, why was I missing the skull? That train of thought lead back to my family. Stupid mind circles.

"Lucy, I promise you it's not stupid." Liar. "Are you afraid I'll laugh?" Silence filled the room. I didn't want to answer that question.

"No." I finally said, but I had hesitated, the damage was done. I thought Lockwood looked a little hurt, that made me feel bad,

"If it bothers you it's not stupid, I won't laugh." Still I resisted. Then he turned on puppy dog eyes.

"Will you tell George?"

"I won't tell George." Lockwood said firmly. And I gave in.

"It's," I took a breath, "it's my family." Lockwood stiffened visibly. But he didn't say anything, "I was just a little worried about them is all." I rushed out, "And I was wondering what the skull was doing there of course, butー" He cut me off by taking my hand, which was resting on the table, into his own. I stopped abruptly.

"Lucy, I need to tell you something." Why was Lockwood being so serious? It's not like he was about to tell me he loved me or anything. Wait, was he? I blushed at the thought, and put it out of my mind.

"Wha- what is it?" I stuttered. Lockwood met my eyes,

"When George and I were at the archives we found something." I blinked,

"Okay." I said.

"And," He continued, "It was about your family." My first thought was, are they dead? My second, was whatever Lockwood had been cooking burning? My third was, I wonder what this is about. I probably could've kept having thoughts right then and there but Lockwood continued,

"The thing is..." He looked away. The last time I had seen him like this was when he came to ask me for my help on the Guppy case.

"You're mother, and your sister Mary are," He closed his eyes tightly. "Are dead." He said. It took me a moment to fully comprehend what he had said. So for a minute I just stared at him, at his worried, pale face, and his dark hair, at his tightly closed eyes, and at his hand encasing mine in a warm, soft blanket of human flesh. Then I understood. Oddly enough I didn't feel like crying, I didn't feel numb, I didn't feel disbelief. I think all the books I'd ever read to me had lied about how the protagonist felt when people died, because I didn't feel anything other than acceptance.

"How?" I asked, "When?" Lockwood's hand was squeezing mine tight, he looked up and opened his eyes.

"Two months ago, they were murdered." He seemed to be relieved I was believing him.

"Ha, never thought they'd die that way." I said, though there was little humor about the situation, "Lockwood, is something burning?" He frowned and went to check. My hand felt cold without his warmth.

"It's not burning," He said from behind me, "just smoking."

"Is that a good sign?" I asked in good humor. Was I happy my family was dead, or at least part of them? No. I wasn't glad my hateful family was dead. It was kind of funny to think that when I was the one who had run away. I snorted.

"You know, I'm not sure if it is or not." Lockwood said, then I started laughing.

Nothing was funny, but I couldn't stop laughing, or was I crying? I couldn't tell. I could hear laughing, but my eyes were wet, and I felt unbearably sad.

Lockwood put something in front of me, than sat down. He scooted his chair close to mine, our legs were touching. I realized I was crying, and tried to stop. The tears hadn't actually fallen yet, but I was shaking, and my nose was runny.

"Oh, Lucy…" Lockwood said, I detected something in his voice, sadness? Worry? It didn't matter. Suddenly I felt arms around me, warm, comforting arms, that smelled like iron, and salt, and tea. I hugged him back, clutching the back of his shirt like a lifeline. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, and sniffled pathetically. Lockwood stroked my hair gently, and I tried not to cry.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but it felt like forever. Eventually I loosened my death grip on his shirt, and he pulled away.

Lockwood had a sad smile on his face, it was one I had seen before, the one he used when he had told us of Jessica. I smiled back, weakly. He pushed a bowl of soup towards me,

"Eat up." He said, and got a bowl for himself. I scooped some up, it had some vegetables in it, and lumps of some sort of meat. I put in my mouth… and froze.

"Lockwood," I choked out, "This is certainly… something." He gave me a quizzical look, and tasted it for himself.

"It's not that bad." He said,

"I think you're being an optimist." I chuckled. I felt better. We bantered around for a while. Before we knew it, it was four o'clock.

Bang!

Lockwood, and I jumped. It was George of course, back from the archives. He came into the kitchen with an armful of papers and a trail of wet footprints.

"Hi George!" I cried cheerfully. He put the papers on the counter and sat down on my other side,

"Well you're certainly in a good mood." He said grouchily. He was right. It was strange, you'd think after learning that two members of my family were dead I'd be more forlorn, but instead I was feeling better than ever. Almost, I still felt a little dizzy, and I wasn't taking chances when food was involved. We talked for a bit, then I got tired, very suddenly. I yawned, and stood up,

"Good night." I said and made for the door, just before I left I turned around, "Lockwood?" I asked, he looked up at me,

"Yes?"

"Thank you." and I really meant it.

 **I'd really would have liked to write this in Lockwood's point of view, I think that would've been fun. The reason I didn't is because all of Lockwood's past hasn't been revealed yet, and I struggle to write in-character if I don't know their past. George is also quite the relate-able character. If anyone wants me to I'll add a bonus chapter with this scene in Lockwood's POV.**


	14. Chapter 14

I changed out of the-day-before-yesterday's-clothes, and took a shower, keeping my injured arm outside of the curtain. I stayed in there for a long time, contemplating my mother, and sister's death. I must've used at least two hundred dollars worth of water, seeing how long I stayed in there. Once I came out I felt much better, although I was pretty dizzy. I got dressed in my pajamas, and crawled into bed. I closed my eyes, and drifted off peacefully…

 **George**

"Did you tell her?" I asked Lockwood nervously. I knew we would have to tell her at some point, but I really didn't want to be the one to deliver the bad news. Better Lockwood than me.

"Yeah." Lockwood nodded, and stirred his tea idly. He looked tired. My arm twinged, and I rubbed it irritably.

"What did she do?" I asked curiously. I really wanted to know, then I could tease her about it. Or possibly not, even I have boundaries.

"She asked how, and when. And I told her." He said,

"Is that all?" I asked with slight disbelief. That was a low-key reaction for hearing about dead family, even if you were Lucy Carlyle.

"Then she cried for a bit, I think she felt better after that."

"She _cried?_ " I exclaimed. Lockwood frowned,

"Keep it down, she's sleeping." Oh man, if this topic wasn't so macabre she would be hearing about this for _years._

"What did you do with her?" I asked, "If it was me I would've just left her. I can't deal with tears." Lockwood looked away,

"I made her soup." I choked on my tea, it spewed out of my mouth and onto both Lockwood, and the thinking cloth. "George! That's disgusting!" Lockwood cried in annoyance, rubbing at his front with a napkin.

"Sorry." I managed between coughs. "Did she _eat_ the soup?" I asked.

"Yes." said Lockwood, and grinned, "She said it was certainly something."

"Oh Lord," I said, "if she get's sick again I'm blaming it on you."

"Oh come on, it was edible. I even ate some. It had to much pepper, but otherwiseー"

"To much pepper! To much pepper! Lockwood, you are never cooking in this house again, first it was the pancakes with to much salt, now it's soup with to much pepper!" Lockwood seemed a little miffed,

"Jeez, try to comfort a friend and all I get is abuse." He gave up trying to get the tea off his shirt, "I'm going to shower, tell me about your discoveries at the archives when I return!" He saluted, then swept out of the room. So melodramatic.

 **Lucy**

I was standing in a dirty, old house. I looked around the corner, and was greeted by a familiar head of black hair.

"Holly!" I cried, and went to grab her, I needed her _now._

She took a step, and seemed to jump across the room. I swore, and ran after her. I chased her out of the house, and into a familiar park. Holly sat down on a bench and shivered. I tried to get to her.

But I was blocked by a wall of air, and no matter how hard I pounded on it it wouldn't brake. I needed to get to her, if I didn't I would never see her again. I pounded on the barrier forcefully. This was the last time I could ever see her! Then her skin was turning blue, that's not a good sign. Ghost touch. Once she was completely blue she looked at me for the first time.

She had no eyes.

"Ah!" I gasped, and woke up with a start. I was lying sideways in my bed, blankets twisted about me. I untangled myself from the mess and went to get some tea. When I stood up the room began spinning, I fell to my knees and put a hand over my eyes. I made my way downstairs without opening my eyes, and went into the kitchen. It smelled good in there, like tea…

"Lucy!" I opened my eyes a little to drink in the sight before me. The kitchen light was on, there were papers spread all over the thinking cloth. The kettle was on the stove, and a cup of tea was on the table in front of George who was at the table, wearing a dirty pajama shirt and…

I looked at the ceiling.

"George, I need you to do something before I vomit." I said, studying the light fixture as if it held interesting secrets. I heard him stand up, and looked higher,

"What do you need? A bowl, some water? Do you need me to rub your back?" Motherly George was here now.

"No, it's much more important than that." I said, "I need,"

"What is it?" I clenched my jaw,

"I was getting to that. I need you to put on pants." I said. I heard him sigh and sit down.

"Oh, so you and Lockwood can lounge around in your pajamas, but not me?" he said sarcastically.

"Me and Lockwood wear pants when we lounge around in our pajamas." I replied, as patiently as I could, which wasn't patiently at all.

"You don't always wear pants, sometimes you have a nightgown on." I could feel my face flaming, whether from embarrassment, or anger I couldn't tell. Probably some combination of both.

"Well I don't leave my underwear in plain sight do I?" I said, hoping he'd just go put on some pants, my neck was hurting.

"Not always." He muttered. I could feel my face getting hotter and hotter.

"I do not! No go put on pants!" He trudged past me reluctantly and once I heard him go up the stairs I looked back down. How hard was it to go put on some pants. Jeez.

I got out a cup and made some tea. I was sitting down when George came back, wearing saggy blue sweatpants. I wasn't being picky.

"So." He said,

"So." I said.

"What are you doing up?" He asked,

"Woke up. Wanted some tea. What about you." He shrugged,

"Same, I had a dream about falling off of a cliff, then couldn't get back to sleep."

"Shame." I said.

"Did you have any dreams?" I stirred my tea,

"Yeah, but it wasn't that bad." George left it at that. We sat in companionable silence for awhile. The only sound was Georges pencil scratching out complicated notes on a loose sheet of paper.

I swallowed with some difficulty, and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes when the room began to spin. The cupboards, George, and the pile of dishes in the sink wobbled dangerously.

"Lucy?" I didn't answer. It was quiet, after a minute I said.

"George, I need a bowl." He didn't question, didn't joke, and didn't refuse, to my endless gratitude. In less than ten minutes a big, plastic, mixing bowl was in my lap.

I bent over it and retched. Then Lockwood's soup can pouring out. Once I was done (after about five minutes) George took the bowl and rinsed it out.

"Alright, you're going to bed now." He said, "Need anything else?" I shook my head, and let him lead me up the stairs. My gut clenched, and I moaned weakly. George's grip on my arm tightened. I felt strangely detached from everything, light and bloodless. We went up past the landing, and into my attic room, where I fell upon the mattress. George pulled my blanket over me and left.

I got a few restless hours of sleep in the early morning, but I felt to sick to relax, and by seven in the morning my jaw was sore, and the rest of me was tense. I didn't want to move for fear of vomiting, even though my side hurt from laying on it for hours.

That's how I spent the night, wallowing in my misery for hours.


	15. Chapter 15

**George**

"George!" I rolled over, "George!" I ignored it. "Come out here or I'm burning your comic collection!"

"Wait!" I croaked. Stupid Lockwood, of course he had to wake me up at the crack of dawn for some stupid reason, after I had been up all night thanks to stupid Lucy, and a stupid nightmare. I really needed to expand my vocabulary, I cut myself some slack though, it was seven thirty after all.

"George…" I stood up, wincing as my feet hit the cold floor.

"I'm on my way…" I said wearily. After making my way through the maze of books, and papers, I opened the door.

It was Lockwood, bouncing up and down like an insane rabbit. He had a bit of a smile on his face, and his eyes sparkled.

"Good morning, today you're going to tell me about the stuff you found last night!" I blinked and rubbed my eyes,

"I, I am?" I yawned. Why couldn't I go to bed? I had been ghost touched, I needed my rest.

"Yes, yes you are. Now come eat!"

"Did you make breakfast?" I asked worriedly, Lockwood was a horrid cook. Even _Lucy_ was better than him, and that was an achievement.

"Yes, but it's just toast and some tea, now hurry up!" And then he was off, vanishing down the stairs. Why did he always run everywhere? Why couldn't he walk like a normal person. I lived with such weird people. There was Lockwood, who ran everywhere like he had a wraith on his tail. There was Lucy, who was actually pretty nice underneath all the sarcasm, and insults. Then Holly, who technically didn't live with us. She was nice, but a little to clean if you know what I mean. Then there was me, the perfectly nice, ordinary guy, who had to deal with my reckless friends whoー

"George!"

"I'm coming." I said.

I came down the kitchen once I was dressed, in my arms was a bundle of papers. Lockwood was practically shaking with excitement. Solving mysteries was like sugar to Lockwood, give him a little and he'd want more, give him a lot and he'd get hyper. I sat down and cleaned off my glasses. I munched on my toast as I spread out the papers so Lockwood could see.

"Okay," I said, "So first there's this Henry Duskin." I took out a picture and pushed it towards him. He picked it up and studied it. I already knew it was a picture of an old man with a crooked nose, and this wispy eyebrows. He had his head resting in an enormous hand. "Look familiar?" I asked.

"Yes, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Where have I seen him before." How can Lockwood have forgotten already? He has such a short memory when it comes to ghosts.

"He's the one that ghost touched me." I said, waving my arm at him for emphasis.

"Oh yes, I remember now. Wasn't he one of the victim's?" Lockwood asked, "Killed by who, Tom something?" I facepalmed,

"Not even close Lockwood." I sighed, "His name was Daniel Notskova. Nasty piece of work he is, he's been caught shoplifting several times, and had also blackmailed a jeweler into giving him sixty percent of his income."

"Okay, so why did Notskova kill Duskin? And how did Duskin end up in a ghost bomb?"

"Well, Duskin was in the bomb right? So that means someone has to have put him there," I said, "I think that he murdered him in order to get a ghost. A powerful one at that, Duskin had a bad past. His father died when he was young, and his mother practically worked him to death. His sister was kind to him though, she died a few years back."

"Okay," Lockwood said, as if understood all this, "so why would they need a ghost bomb? I mean, to use on that Fittes team yes, but why that team?"

"I'm not sure about that, we should ask them later." I said, and continued, "Violet Ini, the other victim, had a similar past. I assume she was also in a ghost bomb as well. The Fittes agents would know." I showed him a picture of a pretty young woman with wavy brown hair and big blue eyes.

"Does that mean that Lucy's family's visitors were also trapped inside bombs?" Lockwood asked, I sighed.

"Probably. I also have a picture of Notskova." I said, and pulled it out. It was a picture of a man who was probably in his late twenties, he had short black hair and a small goatee. His eyes stared out at us accusingly, as if it was our fault he was in jail.

Four murders, for four Fittes agents. Now there were three of them,.

"Speaking of Lucy," I said suddenly, "she was sick again last night." Lockwood put down his toast and looked at me,

"Again? I thought she was better." He said,

"Apparently not, she came downstairs in the middle of the night and told me to put on pants." It was quite unfair really, underpants were comfortable, how come I couldn't wear them?

"She made you put pants on."

"Yes, then she was sick. I blame you." Lockwood looked confused,

"Me? Why me, what did I do?"

"You made her soup!"

"So?"

"That's a guaranteed death sentence!" I cried in exasperation. Really Lockwood, were you so naive to your cooking abilities?

"But I ate it too, and I'm not sick."

"Yes but she was recovering, she wasn't strong enough to eat that sludge you call food." I think I offended him a little, because he stood up and mumbled something about rapiers before heading downstairs. I think being stuck at home taking care of Lucy was wearing him down, how resting could wear you down I don't know, Lockwood's just weird that way..

I could hear him practicing with the dummies when Lucy came downstairs. She was dragging her old blanket behind her, she was still in her pajamas. Her eyes had dark bags under them, and her hair was mussed up. She sat down and began munching on some toast.

"Did you get _any_ sleep last night?" I asked.

"A little." She said, "I had another dream and woke up again, only this time I couldn't go back to sleep." Dreams haunt us as much as ghosts do, a memory of a memory. It came with our profession, and each and every one of us had woken up in the night to go get some tea.

"How are you feeling?"

"Is that all anyone is going to ask me?" She moaned, she must not be feeling to bad then. I was glad she wasn't whimpering, I had never seen Lucy so sick before that one night. Lucy didn't whimper, Lucy didn't cry, Lucy didn't sit about and mope. I wished she would go back to normal, but I guess it would take some time. She had lost a mother, and a sister, and in a way, a friend (If you count the skull a friend that is). I'd do a lot to help her start feeling better, just so long as I was subtle about it, (couldn't let them see I actually cared about them now, could I?)

"I feel tired." Lucy said in between bites, "But not sick." That was better than feeling sick I guess.

"Soー" she asked, but never got a chance to finish.

The bell rang loudly.

I stood up to get it, but Lockwood flew past me and opened the door first. There was nobody there, just a pale white envelope, and a cold December wind. It was cloudy outside, and I could hear thunder.

"It's going to storm." I mentioned. Lockwood ignored this insight, and picked up the envelope. He came inside and shut the door. I followed him into the kitchen, where he opened it and discarded the envelope.

Inside was a piece of piece of paper. Lucy leaned across the table, and tried to read it upside down. Turns out she didn't need to, because Lockwood read it out loud this is what it said,

"Dear Lockwood and Co. My name is Harold, as you probably know by now, one of you is quite sick. Really sick, little do you know, it could be fatal if you don't get the antidote. Well, I can fix that! You just need to come back to our house, bring Lucy Carlyle, and one thousand pounds. Then the antidote is yours. Bring her within three days if you want guaranteed survival for your sick person."

Lockwood stopped speaking, and threw the envelope down on the table angrily.

"Harold is the one of the people who's in Lucy's house." I said,

"My old house."

"Her old house." I amended.

"What are we going to do?" Lucy asked, she tried to look casual as she asked it, but I could tell she was fearful. Who wouldn't be?

Lockwood didn't reply immediately, he was staring off into space. His hair fell across one of his eyes, and he brushed it away impatiently. His eyes were bright, but there was no hint of a smile on his face.

"We prepare to leave." He said, and stood up. With that he left me and Lucy sitting at the table, and went downstairs.


	16. Chapter 16

I didn't know what to say.

I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know what to think about this new development. I could _die_ if I didn't get this antidote? I didn't want to die! I risked my left almost every night, knowing I might die. But now death seemed so close, so imminent.

And why did they want me?

"Do you think they want you to talk to the skull, and the other ghost?" George asked. Question answered,

"I guess so." I said, "How did they know I was sick?" I asked,

"They didn't know _you_ were sick. They just knew one of us was sick."

"Does that mean that they got me sick?"

"You know, that would make sense. Remember those things they were shooting at us? What if they held some sort of virus?"

"Then whoever got hit by one would get sick!"

"Exactly!" George cried, "That makes sense, although how they knew that they had hit you I don't know." We had a moment of satisfaction, and happiness. Proud we had figured it out.

Then I remembered I might die. That put a damper on my joy.

"Well," I said sadly, "I better get dressed."

At some point during the day Lockwood went to go talk to the Fittes agents, while George explained everything to me. It didn't surprise me that my family had been trapped inside ghost bombs, I was just glad I didn't have to be the one to fight them. When Lockwood came back we we left.

An hour later we stood on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive. I had a thousand pounds in my pocket. Lockwood and George didn't know about it, they insisted they pay it, fat chance. I felt better than I had since I got sick, but still not quite back to normal. I had a backpack, there were some mints in it, a small knife, and a bag of iron filings. George, and Lockwood were similarly equipped.

The train pulled in with a rumble, and we clambered aboard. I sat down, and George thudded down next to me. Lockwood sat across from us, holding an old issue of _True Hauntings_ in his hand. I set my backpack on the floor and leaned back as the train began to move.

"I'm sorry." I said, Lockwood and George both looked at me,

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Lockwood said firmly,

"I got sick, and was a burden." I said, "And now we have to do this thing, whatever it is." I was referring to this trip. I knew had nothing to apologize for, but I felt like at least some of this was my fault.

"Lucy, are you tired?" I looked at George,

"Yes, considering someone gave me nightmares last night."

"Who?" George asked,

"You."

"Me?" He was confused, "How did I give you nightmares?" He actually had given me an awful dream, in which I was desperately searching for a pair of Georges pants, so that I could save myself from Lockwood, who was chasing me with his rapier. It was all very confusing, and I didn't remember why Lockwood was chasing me.

"Oh nevermind." I said. It was quiet for a while, the atmosphere was heavy, and thick. I closed my eyes. My last thought before my consciousness fled was that Christmas was coming, and I needed to find gifts.

 **George**

Lucy's face smashed into my shoulder. I looked down, and got a faceful of hair. Her head was heavy, it was hurting my shoulder. As carefully as I could, I pushed the opposite way, so she leaned against the window.

Then Lucy started snoring. Loud. I groaned and looked at Lockwood, hoping he would let me wake her up. He met my eyes and shook his head, then turned back to his magazine. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes were ever so slightly rumpled. He wasn't turning the pages of his magazine.

I probably looked far worse.

"Lockwood." I said, "You know they want Lucy, what's the plan." He sighed, and tossed the magazine down.

"I'm not quite sure, we'll have to improvise. But we won't let Lucy get taken, and we'll get the antidote."

"Great plan Lockwood, I'm sure everything will work out just as you say." I said, sardonically, and rolled my eyes. "After all, we've only got two reckless idiots on our team."

"You mean we have three fabulous agents, one of which has no sense of adventure." He said, and smiled. It wasn't a full blown smile, but it was genuine. I snorted,

"Yeah, one of which is sick, and the other two are exhausted."

"I just remembered, what were you doing last night with Lucy?" He asked, "You said she was sick." I nodded,

"I was downstairs going over the notes about the murdered and she came down to get some tea. Then she made me go put some pants on, when I came back down we had some tea, then she puked. Then she got dizzy so I made her go to bed. Apparently she didn't' get much sleep."

"No…" Lockwood said slowly, "Poor Luce, going through all this at once. I wish I could help." I didn't know what to say, so I changed the subject as subtly as I could,

"What did the Fittes agents say?" Lockwood smiled,

"I believe your suspicions were correct, the other three agents left on the team said they had seen those people, but not while they were alive." I pulled out my notebook and recorded that,

"Did you ask them if they'd been out of London recently?" I asked him,

"Oh no, I forgot, sorry George." He said slightly sheepishly,

"Oh well, we'll have to do without that for now then." I said in what i hoped was a business like manner, and shut my notebook. "I'm going to try to get some sleep before we arrive, I suggest you do the same." I said pointedly. He nodded and put his magazine away. He looked at me, then at Lucy, dark eyes shining. Then I closed my eyes, and went to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Someone was shaking me gently, I swatted their hands away.

"Lucy, wake up, we're here." I opened my eyes. Lockwood was in front of me, George was behind him. Each had their backpacks. I grabbed mine and stood up. After my nap I felt much better, but nervousness was gnawing away at my stomach.

I began to shiver when we left the warmth of the train, the cold winter blew through my coat and sweater as if they didn't exist. We meandered through the silent town, this time I knew exactly where we were going. In fact, I wish I was lost, then I wouldn't have to do this.

The closer we got to my old house the more worried I got, eyes darting left and right as I turned the last corner. We marched down the street, and reached the house. I climbed the steps, and knocked on the red door without hesitation. I had to do it before I lost my nerve.

" _Lucy!_ " I heard the skull, " _Come and save me, these people are weirdos. And that's coming from me you hear, a talking skull!_ " I sighed, well now we knew the skull was okay.

"Skulls here," I said, "says the people here are weirdos."

The door swung open silently.

Standing in the doorway was the smaller man, Harold. He was wearing a red sweater, and a pair of saggy gray sweatpants. If you gave George a bath, got rid of his glasses, dyed his hair, gave him brown contact lenses, and put him on an extensive diet, they would almost look the same. Meaning they didn't look the same at all. He smield in a sad way when he saw us, as if he didn't want to do anything to us.

"You better come in." He had a friendly voice, and if he hadn't chased us halfway around the city the other day I would've thought him a nice person. As it was, I wasn't fazed by his appearance. These were the people who murdered my family, probably.

I wanted Lockwood, and George to stay outside, but at the same time I did want them with me. So I didn't say anything, and he led us into the sitting room, or what had been the sitting room while I had lived there, because it was completely empty now. I was hit by a strange sense of deja vu.

" _Hurry up! I don't know what they're planning but it's not good, even an idiot like you could figure that out!_ " the skull shouted. The voice was coming from upstairs, I could hear something else coming from up there too, it was quiet and soft,

" _I love…_ " it whispered, but I didn't catch the rest of it. I could only assume it was other visitor the skull had told us about.

Harold stopped in the sitting room,

"Alright," he said, "now Ms Carlyle, come with me. I take it you have the money?" I nodded, and followed him, I could hear Lockwood coming after me, but I turned around and shook my head. Lockwood hesitated, then fell back, fingering his rapier.

Harold led me upstairs, and into what used to be my mother's room. Like every other room in the house, it was devoid of furniture. This particular room had cobwebs in the corner, and a slight ghost fog that almost covered my feet. There were two ghosts in the room, one, was the skull, sitting in the middle of the floor, and making gruesome faces at Harold and me. The other was inside triple iron chains, she was a pretty ghost, with long brown hair, delicate features, and big blue eyes. She was wearing a pair of pants with a hole in one of the knees, and a to big tee shirt. She hovered in the circle, above a small something, I couldn't tell what it was, presumably her source.

" _Lucy, finally. You have your rapier right? Good, now take it and stab that Harold bloke, he's the worst of the lot._ "

" _I love…_ "

"Okay now, just give me the money, then we'll move onto step two!" Harold said cheerfully. I reached into my pocket and fingered the money. Then I remembered I could die, and pulled it out. He held out his hand, and I handed it over.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked. He smiled,

"That's easy, just tell me what these ghosts are saying."

" _Tell him, I think he's a carrot head with an idiotic sense of humor!_ "

" _I love… I love…_ "

"They aren't saying anything," I said, "I can sense them, but I don't hear anything." Harold stopped smiling,

"We both know that's a lie, now please, Ms Carlyle." How did he know I was lying? I didn't think the girl was a type three either, she was only speaking in fragments. I stuck my chin up,

"I, don't, hear, anything." I said. Harold sighed,

"Well, maybe this will help you think." He said, "Your friends downstairs, how well do you think they can fight five people at once?" _Five?_ There were six people in on this? I didn't know how Lockwood was doing, but George's arm was still bugging him a little, even if he didn't show it. It depended on the five people I guess. Harold caught onto my train of thought, "They are all strong, and an use a rapier with relative strength." I heard heavy footsteps outside the door, and the big man from last time came in. He was wearing the same garish orange sweatshirt as he had been wearing last time.

"Has she spoken yet?" He asked harshly, Harold shook his head,

"Not yet." The big man smiled,

"I know how to make her talk, I'll be right back." He thundered out the door with the creaky hinges, then I lost sight of him. I wondered what he was doing, bringing some sort of torture device? I sure hoped not. But who knew what these people were capable of? He came back about a minute later, he walked in dragging something, no _someone_.

Holly.

What was Holly doing here? Her hair was slightly tangled, and her dress slightly wrinkled, and her face had a smear of blood on it. When she saw me her perfect eyes widened.

"Lucy!" she cried, I didn't say anything back. How did she get here? What was she doing? The big man was holding her arm tightly. He pulled out a knife, and held it to her throat. I think I panicked a little. Don't do it! My mind screamed at the enormous man. Harold frowned,

"Alright, now please, Ms Carlyle." I hesitated, looked first at Holly, then at the ghosts.

"The one in the jar is screaming insults." I said, "And the girl says she loves something, I don't know what. Happy now?" They both frowned, apparently they weren't happy.

"What do you think?" Harold asked the big man, "We could just let them go now."

"No." the big man grunted, "What does she love?" he asked, and turned to me. He took a step forward, dragging Holly's small body behind him. He got close to me, and tipped my face up to his.

I took a step back, but kept eye contact,

"I don't know."

"Liar!" He screamed, face filled with fury. Suddenly, he let go of Holly, he raised his hand.

And hit me across the face. Despite myself, I gave an involuntary cry, and stumbled a few steps away, hand to my cheek. I glared up at him, fingering my rapier. He glared right back at me,

"Walter!" Harold shouted, the big man, Walter, ignored him.

"You tell me what she loves, or else your friends downstairs get it."

"No." I said mockingly, half to see what he would do, half to spite him. I hoped all he would do was hit them like he had hit me, we could all take quite a beating.

"Walter, stop. There are better ways to go about this!" Walter scowled down at the smaller man,

"Are you saying you want to go back on our deal?"

"No, but I stillー"

"Nobody cares what you think!" Walter cried, he grabbed Holly again, then reached to grab me. I darted out of the way and ran towards the stairs,

" _Lucy! Come back, take me with you!"_ The skull yelled. _Sorry skull._ I thought, right now it's me. I flew down the stairs faster than Lockwood when we had a new case. I rounded a corner, and skidded into the sitting room.

Lockwood, and George, both looking worried, and bored jumped up when I rushed in.

"They have Holly!" I shouted, "And they're going to do something to you!" I could hear heavy footsteps behind me,

"Lucy, what happened to your face?" Lockwood asked, and stepped forward.

"It's nothing, just be careful!" I said before a humongous hand descended onto my shoulder. I drew my rapier, and I heard Lockwood, and George do likewise.

Walter was grinning, gripping Holly tightly. He grabbed my arm, and I went to poke him with my sword, but he evaded. Then he threw something into the room, and the world exploded.


	18. Chapter 18

I think he had thrown a ghost bomb, my suspicions were confirmed a moment later when a presence filled the room. It was angry. There was nothing in the room, but the poltergeist found weapons. It grabbed the knife from Walters belt. The knife swished through the air, stabbing the wall dangerously close to Lockwood's head. He didn't flinch. Nobody moved, nobody spoke. A floorboard pulled it's way free from its constraints, then another, then another, and they began to bumble around the room in an aggressive way. Then the knife began to slide out from the wall, it started probing around the room. Sometimes randomly stabbing viciously.

Once it got close to George, he tiptoed out of the way, and let it stab another wall.

I tried to pull free from Walter, who was staring at the knife, and floorboard in bewilderment. I didn't know what he was thinking. My arm slid free, and I got my balance, stepping away. I still needed to get Holly, then we needed to stop the poltergeist, get the skull, and…

Swish! I ducked. The knife quivered in the doorframe, Holly eyed it fearfully. Lockwood was creeping towards the broken bomb in the middle of the room. I dropped my backpack on the floor, ignoring the miniscule thumping sound it made, and pulled out my bag of filings. I threw it to him. Then several things happened at once.

Luckily, the filings went straight towards Lockwood and the source, whatever it may be. Unluckily, it ripped, and spilled filings everywhere, by the time Lockwood caught it was mostly empty. He dumped the remaining bit of iron on the pile of broken glass and plastic on the floor, and the presence that had been filling the room diminished in size. The floorboard dropped to the floor, and the knife stilled. Just wait, it get's better.

Then someone knocked on the front door. Walter scowled, tossed Holly unceremoniously towards me. I hurriedly got my rapier out of the way, before she crashed into me, sending both of us sprawling. The big man stomped out, and went to get the door.

For a moment, we just sat there and breathed. Then I pushed Holly off of me with a grunt, who knew she was so heavy?

"Lucy! Holly! Are you okay?" George asked, hurrying over. He had sheathed his sword, and seemed uninjured.

"I, I'm alright." Holly said shakily

"Fine." I said. "What about you and Lockwood?"

"I'm just peachy." George said,

"I have some iron in my eye." Lockwood said, as he wandered over towards us, finger scrambling around his lower lid. "It hurts quite badly."

Then Walter came back, Harold was behind him, and behind _him_ there were at least five, large, grumpy, men.

"Ms Carlyle, please, if you could just tryー" Harold pleaded before Walter stuck a hand out and silenced him.

"What does she love!" He bellowed at me, I got to my feet slowly.

"I don't know. And I wouldn't tell you if I did." I said firmly. He raised his hand to hit me again, but this time I was prepared for it. I ducked. His face turned a funny tomato color.

"Who does she love, she loves me! She must love me!" He cried. I was beginning to think he was off his rocker.

"Walter, calm down!" Harold cried, "You're going about this the wrong way!" The men behind him shifted uneasily.

"No! You're wrong, all you do is sit and plan, I've had to do the whole operation on my own. And what happened, Daniel ended up in jail!"

"I never agreed to murder people, or hurt them, I just said I'd find the people you need if I got to look at the visitors."

"Ignore him." Walter said to the men behind Harold. "And go get those kids!" He said, and pointed at us. I'd like to say in normal circumstances we could have beaten them, but we were outnumbered, Holly didn't have a weapon, and there was a poltergeist in the room. Great, our chances of fighting our way out of this were tremendous.

Then two of the men pulled out guns. They pointed them at us without hesitation, I didn't want to put my rapier down, but I didn't want to become target practice either.

I heard a rapier clatter to the ground behind me. It slid along the floor towards the men, the poltergeist was still here, it had just been weakened. I head velcro being peeled apart, then another sword clattered to the floor. I clutched mine tightly, it was my only weapon, without it I was almost defenseless. But then Lockwood stepped up next to me, and gently pushed the tip of the blade down, he smiled.

"It's okay Luce, just do as they say for now." I didn't like it, but I dropped the sword into the mess of broken floorboards beneath me. I felt vulnerable without it.

Four of the men came forward, one for each of us, they grabbed our arms and led us upstairs. We were led into the ghost room, where the skull was prattling on about something stupid, and the sad girl was still moaning something about love. The man holding me, who I had nicknamed Vincent, brought me over to the girl inside the chains. My friends stood behind me a little ways, Walter, and Harold, stood on either side of me. Harold was trembling,

"Please, please, Ms Carlyle…" He trailed off, Walter glared down at me, and I glared right back up at him,

"Tell. Me. Who. She. Loves." He said sharply.

" _I love… I love so much…"_ Nothing new there,

" _Murder them! You could strangle them with the chains, or you could let me out and I could do it for you. Yes, do that."_ No help there.

Since I didn't know anything new, and saying 'I don't know.' didn't seem to have gotten me anywhere before I tried a new strategy.

"No." I said. I heard ten sharp intakes of breath, and one hiss of anger.

"What did you say?" He said menacingly.

"No." I said again, "Might want to get your ears checked if you couldn't hear me, thought I spoke plenty loud enough." I was trying to be like Lockwood there, if you couldn't tell. But instead of politely stating a fact, it seemed more like a threat. Oh well.

He hit me again, my head smacked painfully into my shoulder. I heard someone struggling behind me. In retaliation I kicked him in the shin. He stumbled backwards in surprise and pain, and cursed.

It went on like that for about an hour, only after that he stayed out of reach of my boots. He asked, I refused, he hit.

"Walter please," Harold pleaded, "you know what? How about we let them rest for a while. You know, give them time to think this over, I mean, they haven't had time to consider what could happen to them if they don't tell you." Walter was red in the face, and panting, he nodded, and stalked out, slamming the door behind him. All four of us were dragged into my old bedroom. They dropped us in there, shut, and locked the door. My room was empty, full of dust, cobwebs, and memories, there was my old window, with the iron bars on the outside of it. If I looked, I knew I could see the small back garden.

I walked over to where my bed had been, leaned against the wall, then sank slowly to the ground. Underneath me, I could hear Harold getting after Walter for using a powerful ghost bomb when he had it under control.

Lockwood kneeled next to me and inspected my cheek. It stung terribly, but I would survive. Holly and George were talking by the doorway about something.

"This looks awful Luce, it's turning blue. Are you alright?" Lockwood asked worriedly. His hair seemed to have lost some of it's usual energy, and was drooping slightly. He had a cut over one eyebrow, and there were dark bags under his eyes,

"It's nothing," I said, "you're not looking so smart yourself." He was about to say something, but I plowed forward, "What's the plan?"

"Sleep." He said firmly. "Then we make a plan. We also need to figure out how Holly got here, and why."

"Okay." I said, to tired to argue. Lockwood stood up and helped me to my feet.

"Now." He said, in a more business like tone, "Where's the warmest patch of floor?"


	19. Chapter 19

There were no warm patches of floor. The house did have heating, but the vent in this room was broken, and the window was drafty. In the end we all curled up into a kind of human nest in one of the corners. It was uncomfortable to say the least, it couldn't have been much warmer than freezing, and the sounds of arguing and breaking glass drifted up through the cold, hard floor.

"Holly, what's going on?" I finally asked. She sighed,

"Can it wait till morning?"

"Definitely not." George said. She frowned, and scratched her arm,

"Well, a few days ago I was walking down the street, when the big man, Walter, jumped out at me and grabbed me, Harold was there too. They wanted to know about you, Lucy." she said, and looked at me with her perfect eyes, "They wanted to know if you were really as good of a listener as the papers said. I didn't want to say, but they had knives, and that frightened me.

"They asked if you could talk to visitors. I said yes, then they asked if I knew of any type threes I said yes, and told them about the skull and then they let me go, saying if I said a breathed a word about them to anyone they'd have me dead.

"So I didn't say anything, then sometimes they'd come to me with an object and have me judge how powerful it was. Then one day they said to come with them, we got on the train and came out here, they had a lot of sources here. I tested each one. Then they led me upstairs and I saw the skull, and the pretty ghost girl. They asked if I could hear them, I said no and he hit me." She pointed to her forehead, "He cut me, Harold made him stop. That's what I know, as far as I can tell they want you, Lucy, to listen to the ghost girl for them."

"I think I figured that out myself, thanks." I said drily.

"Alright." Lockwood said, "Now, everyone sleep. We'll make a plan in the morning." None of us needed to be told twice. George was already asleep, and Holly practically passed out as soon as he gave his consent. Lockwoods eyes closed, and his breathing evened out after about ten minutes.

I couldn't sleep. I didn't know why, but everytime I closed my eyes I tensed up. I think it had something to do with the fact that I was in my old bedroom, my old house, and my family was dead. It felt wrong to be in this house last time I visited, and now with kidnappers in it, and my family dead… At least I didn't feel sick anymore, and that was another thing, whatever they had that would fix me, I needed it. I couldn't die, not yet.

I stood up, and carefully picked my way over Holly's gently snoring form, and walked over to the window.

I peered through the glass, and the iron bars. I could see the back garden, or what was left of it anyway. It was overgrown, leafy vines covered the ground, and the vegetable garden Mary used to work on was covered in a cold blanket of white powder. It was snowing gently, big flakes drifted down onto the ground. I shivered, it was colder by the window.

I felt my eyes prickle, but I looked up at my ceiling to stop them from falling. I had already cried once lately, that was more than enough times. Once my eyes stopped threatening to overflow, I went back over to the others, and snuggled down between Lockwood, and Holly. It was warmer over here, but still cold.

Oddly enough, I felt a little better, almost relaxed. I closed my eyes…

To be woken by the sound of shattering glass, it echoed through the empty house. People were yelling downstairs. I tried to ignore the sound, Portland Row was so quiet at this time of night. Lockwood stirred, and woke up. The glass must've woken him up too. He sat up, stretched, and looked at his watch. I knew it would read the same time as mine, three twenty-five. He put his hand down, and flopped back down onto the hard floor. I closed my eyes again, and waited for sleep to come.

I woke up with a sour taste in my mouth, someone's arm over my eyes, and a hand tangled in my hair. I sat up, then layed back down when my scalp shouted at me. The others began to wake up after I did, I took Holly's arm off my face, and was about to start detangling Lockwood's hand from my hair when he woke up and set to work on it himself.

"Sorry Luce," he said, as he worked, "I'm almost done, this'll just take a second." It took a few seconds, but he eventually got his long fingers out of the nest. Holly woke up next, she combed her fingers through her hair, and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand delicately. We had to wake George up, since he wouldn't get up himself.

The house had quieted down, no more talking could be heard, other than our own.

"Okay," Lockwood said, "It's time to make a plan." We gathered round him like children listening to a story. "We need to get the skull, and get out of here with all of us intact. I vote we grab the skull, and get the Harold guy, to answer some questions. He didn't seem like a fighter."

"But what about Walter?" Holly asked, "He most definitely can fight, and won't hesitate to hurt anyone." Lockwood thought for a moment,

"If we got our rapiers and attacked all at once I bet we could take him." He said. "So, next time they let us out, we find our rapiers, get Walter locked in here, get Harold to answer some questions, get the skull, and then we're home free!" He said happily. "Lucy, do you know of anything we need to know about this house to make this work? Like a secret passage or something? If they know something we don't about it…"

"No." I said, "It's a normal house, the bottom stair creaks, the window has a draft." I pointed to the window and shrugged, "Boring stuff."

"Then we sit down to wait," Lockwood said, "everyone, don't hurt yourselves, please." We sat around for about five minutes, before we heard the heavy footsteps of Walter coming towards us. We stood up, stretched, and prepared.

The footsteps stopped, a lock clicked, and the door swung open.


	20. Chapter 20

Walter came in, and looked behind him as I darted under his arm (which was still on the doorknob) and into the hallway.

"What?" I heard him cry, then the others were on him. When I reached the stairs, I looked back. Holly, George, and Lockwood were all hanging to to Walter in various places. Lockwood was sitting on his shoulders, gripping his bald head tightly. When he saw me looking he smiled, a bright smile, filled with the adrenaline of battle.

"Go Luce! We got him!" I grinned back, and ran downstairs. Suddenly everything seemed much better. True we were in an old house filled with metaphorical ghosts (my memories), sure we had evil men with ghost bombs after us. My cheek was blue and swollen, the skull was shouting instructions at me (which I was ignoring, because they were utterly ridiculous.) and Mary and mother were dead, but for a brief moment, everything felt right in the world. It was the Lockwood effect.

I careened down the stairs and began throwing open every closet door I could find. First door, nothing but a few spiders. Second door, slightly better luck, a crowbar. I grabbed it, feeling it's familiar heavy weight in my hands calm me. Then I went back to searching, clutching my makeshift weapon tightly.

It turns out they were in the downstairs bathroom closet. There were three of them, one encased in Velco. I jammed the sheathed one under my arm, and shoved mine into my belt. I grabbed Lockwood's sword and began to dash back upstairs. Harold was nowhere to be seen, I was a little disappointed, I wanted some people to stab. I dragged myself up the stairs towards the fight going on between Walter, and my best friends. Lockwood was still sitting on his shoulders, although now he had covered his eyes with his hands. He was grinning widely,

"Come on!" He taunted, "I thought you could do better than this, show us what you've really got!" Walter roared, and tried to shake off George, and Holly, who were clinging to his hands.

"Hey!" I shouted, "I've got them!" I waved Lockwood's rapier in the air. Lockwood took one of his hands off Walter's face and held it out to me. I wasn't sure what he wanted, either a) me to throw the sword (bad idea) b) to help me onto Walter's back from seven feet away, and six feet off the ground. I decided it was probably option a, and despite knowing how bad I was at throwing swords, tossed it in his direction.

Needless to say, it wasn't the prettiest of sights when the rapier began its descent towards Lockwood. He held out his hand, and missed the sword by a mile. It plummeted down towards Holly, and George, who looked up at this, emitted two loud, girlish shrieks, and jumped away. It stabbed the floor, and sank a good three inches into the wood. It stood there quivering a moment, until George had the good sense to pick it up and try to hand it to Lockwood, who was stretching down to reach it.

Walter wasn't having any of that. He began trying to buck Lockwood off, Lockwood wrapped his long legs around his neck, so every time he jerked, he lost a bit of air. Unfortunately, this just made Walter angrier (I think he had more anger issues than I.) and he began to run backwards into the walls trying to get him off.

By this time I had reached George, and Holly. I handed George his sword, and helped them try to stop the raging beast. I don't think we did much other than get our feet stepped on. Who knew George's foot was so heavy?

Walter slammed into a wall particularly hard, driving his head into Lockwood's stomach. He lost all his air, and in that moment when he was trying to remember how to breathe and his grip loosened. Walter threw him off. I didn't know how Walter had done that, Lockwood was slight, but his still weighed more than twenty pounds. Walter had thrown him like you throw a book, or a rock, or a particularly pesky little kid. How strong was he?

Lockwood was flung headlong into the door behind him, I winced when I heard the hollow thudding sound it made when he hit the old wood.

"Lockwood!" I cried, when he didn't immediately jump up as I expected. He didn't respond, he just lay there, in a crumpled heap on the floor. I had a brief flashback to the when he rescued me from Robert Cooke, and ended up unconscious.

Needless to say, when people hurt my friends I get angry. Needless to say, I was stoked up for some head bashing. And needless to say, I wasn't very happy right now.

While Walter was running towards us with a face so contorted with rage I thought it would crumple in on itself I raised the crowbar above my head with both hands and brought it down on his arm.

There was a crack, and I felt something give beneath the bar as I gave Walter a new joint.

"Lucy!" Holly said, "That's disgusting." To tell the truth, it was. But I didn't care right now. Walter yelled, and pulled his arm back. I pointed my iron bar at him, and he glared up at me. If looks could kill…

George and Holly came up behind me.

"Where's some rope?" I asked to the world in general. To my surprise it was Walter who responded.

"In the kitchen cupboard."

"Holly, go get it for me." I said, as I matched Walters glare. I heard her skip off down the stairs.

"Where's Harold." I asked him.

"He'll be here in about an hour." He grunted. Who knew he could be broken so easily? All it took was a broken arm and now he was singing like a bird. Holly came back, and handed me some rope. I, in turn, handed it to George and told him to tie Walter up. He did so happily,

"I say we leave him here and interrogate the Harold guy." He said, "I don't fancy talking to this bloke one second longer." I agreed heartily, and tucked my crowbar in my belt. I turned to face my friends ready to celebrate our success, and saw Lockwood behind them. The party could wait, not having Lockwood there would be quite the killjoy.

Lockwood!

I walked over briskly and kneeled down beside him.

"Lockwood?" I asked, and touched his shoulder gently. He didn't stir. "Lockwood." I said again. I pushed him onto his back, and arranged him so his head wasn't at a ninety degree angle.

His thin face was deathly pale. (Okay, maybe not _deathly_ pale.) and there was blood pouring out of somewhere in his hair, and he had a big red scrape on the side of his face where he had hit the door.

I leaned over him, "Lockwood!" I practically shouted. I could feel George and Holly lean over me to get a better look at our friend. Suddenly I just wanted to be home. Not my old house, only furnished with bad memories, but real home. Portland Row, at Christmas time, with Lockwood awake and talkative. I didn't want to stay to interrogate Harold.

"George." I said, "Go talk to Walter over there, figure out why they needed me, who the girl in the chains is, and why they've been killing people. Holly, I need you to get our backpacks, and the skull." Apparently I was vice-leader, because they obeyed me without question. George waddled over to Walter and began asking him questions, writing the answers down in his notebook. And Holly began to search the house for our bags. I stayed by Lockwood's side, listening to his breathing, trying to remind myself he was still alive. I leaned against the wall to wait. Holly came back, and dropped my bag next to me, and set the skull in the jar down gently.

" _If you had just listened to me, your friend here might not be this way._ " he said.

"If I had listened to you we all would've been dead." I said, and turned the lever. I stuck him in my backpack.

"Holly." I said, "Do you think you could help me get Lockwood downstairs?"

"I don't know, I could try." She said, and reached for Lockwood's feet. Together we managed to hoist him into the air. We waddled awkwardly down the stairs, where we set him down near the door.

"I'll be right back." I said, and went to talk to George. George looked like he hadn't slept well last night, his hair was even sloppier than usual, and he kept stuttering over his words.

"And who is the ghost in the chains?" He asked Walter, who was biting his lip.

"Eline Tarna." He said,

"Why did you kill her?" At this Walter began to struggle against his bonds. He winced, and stopped. I must've really messed his arm up then.

"I didn't kill her." He said, and glared at George's sneakers. He looked up at me as I arrived. "Girl." He snapped, "Who did she love?" This again? I looked at him as coldly as I could,

"I don't know." I said, "That is the truth, and my answer isn't going to change." He deflated a bit.

"George," I said, "There's a phone booth about a block away, once you're done here do you think you could get the authorities? Holly and I are going to take Lockwood to the train station."

"Sure." He nodded. "Did you get the skull?" He asked,

"Yeah." I said.

"Good. You were beginning to get techy without it around." I hit him on the shoulder, but didn't really put much force into it. After all, he was right as he so often was. I went back down to help Holly. I grabbed Lockwood's wrists and heaved. We maneuvered him out the door and down the road.

It took about half an hour before we got to the train station. George even beat us. He had gotten tickets for us. We waited for fifteen minutes for the next train, then clambered aboard as quickly as we could when we were all exhausted, and one of us wasn't conscious.

We took our seats. Holly and George sat across from Lockwood, who was leaning against the window, and I. Holly fell asleep as soon as the train started moving,

"Did you call the authorities?" I asked George,

"Yeah, they said they'd take care of everything."

"Explain everything to us when Lockwood wakes up." I said. He nodded again and closed his eyes. I tried to stay awake for as long as possible, which wasn't very long. Eventually I gave up, and let the darkness cover my thoughts.


	21. Chapter 21

p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I woke up slowly, first came my sense of smell. It smelled like sweat and grime in our tiny compartment, and I wrinkled my nose. I realized I was laying on something soft, and warm. I opened my eyes. At first the light blinded me, but my eyes adjusted./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Sunlight was shining through the window of the train, warming me. Across me me, George's head was on the table. I was pretty sure he was snoring, though later he would put it down to the rickety train. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Holly's head was tilted back delicately, glossy black curls cushioning her head. Then I realized what I was doing. I was laying on top of Lockwood, who was still leaning against the window I had left him at. My head was on his arm, just above his elbow. His coat smelled horrid, we really needed to do some laundry soon. He didn't seem to have awoken yet. I felt heat rise in my face, and sat up quickly, glad no one else was awake yet. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"After taking a minute to compose myself, I opened my backpack and pulled out the skull. I set him on the table and turned the lever,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Well now you've finally got me out of that stinking prison. I'm glad I'm dead so I didn't have to smell the inside of that hellhole. Do you know what I found in there? I foundfont face="Nimbus Mono L, monospace"span lang="zh-CN"ー/span/font/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Hi skull." I said, and yawned. The plasam in the jar made an elongated face and stuck out it's tongue,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Have a nice nap?/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Yes I did." I said firmly, "What happened to you?" The face in the silver glass drooped,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Oh well, I might as well tell you./spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"" he sighed, "/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I was just having some honest fun, you know, making the fat one drop his tea. And you put me under the bed. You left me there for a good long time you know, still need to figure out a way to get you back for that." /spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"He trailed off, muttering something about a coat sleeve. I tapped the jar, and he got back to the story,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"After a few days you began to panic,/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"" it grinned a toothy grin, he accomplished this by making the plasam disappear. "/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"It was good to know somebody cares about me. The way you treat me anyone would think I'm your worst enemy./spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You are my enemy." I said, "You're a visitor."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Not like that's ever stopped you from talking to ghosts, I mean even Lockwoodfont face="Nimbus Mono L, monospace"span lang="zh-CN"ー/span/font/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Skull." I interrupted,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Fine, fine." /spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"he said grumpily, "/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Anyway, I was planning to wait until you were totally unsuspecting, then scream very loudly in the middle of the night./spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Oh." I said, "Lovely." The plasam came back and grinned goofily,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I know right? Unfortunately, I never got the chance. Some girl came up and started going through your stuff. When she found me she put me in her bag and left./spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""What did she look like?" I asked, even though I thought I already knew. It pretended to think,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Glasses, yellow dress. Pretty, sounds just like the kind of girl you'd hate. I tried to get you to come rescue me, but you weren't there. I was in her bag for a long time, then she took me out and we were in that room I was in when you arrived. She was talking to the men, said something about having delivered a decoy./spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"" That would've been the letter. So Tia was in on it. Wonderful, now another family member was dead to me. I was guessing the 'decoy' the skull was talking about was the letter I had received. I wondered briefly why Tia was doing it, had they threatened her? Then I put it out of my mind,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The smaller guy, Harry I think, he kept trying to talk to me. Then he brought Miss Meticulous,/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"" His plasam whirled to face Holly's gently breathing, limp form. "/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"She couldn't hear me, but they made her try to listen. At one point they brought in a woman name Violet. Obviously she couldn't hear me. The other ghost wasn't even interesting, yet they kept trying to talk to her. And that's about it./spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Wait." I said, "Do you know anything about the big guys relationship the girl?" The skull fake yawned,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"All these questions are tiring me out, I think I'm going to take a nap. I'm sure you'll understand, after all, you just spent an hour and a half flopped over on top of Lockwood./spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Wait." I said again, "Just…" My words dried up as the green light inside the jar faded away, leaving an old skull bolted to the bottom of the glass./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Great." I said, "Just fantastic, I forgot how much I love your company." I thought the light in the jar flashed briefly, but wasn't positive. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Lucy?" I jumped. It was George, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "Who're you talking to?"/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Just our friend in the jar." I said, and told him about what it had said. George wrote it all down in his notebook./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""It makes sense, I think. Once we're all conscious I'll tell, would be a waste of breath to tell it all twice." I nodded. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"We sat in silence for a minute or two before the speaker announced that our stop was next. George shook Holly awake, and I stowed the jar away in my bag. One that was done I shook Lockwood gently, he didn't respond. Oh well. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"This time George helped me carry Lockwood, he was stronger than Holly, so we were able to get off the train with about fifteen seconds to spare. Holly called a cab, and we all crowded in. The driver gave Lockwood a curious look, but we were agents, and he didn't ask. He dropped us off about a block away from home, I dug around in Lockwood's pockets for the cash I knew he had in there somewhere. Lot's of cash. One thousand pounds to be exact. I gave the driver his money and reached for his ankles./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""One," I said, "two, three, lift!" George and I strained, and managed to totter down the street awkwardly. The few people out in the snow stared at us. I stared right back, until the took the hint and looked away, embarrassed. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"When we got to 35 Portland Row, Holly took her key and opened the door. George and I staggered in, and began to climb the narrow staircase. Holly shut the door behind us, and followed, making sure that we didn't hit Lockwood's head on the banister. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"We brought him into his room, and dropped his slack body onto his comforter. Holly brought in a first aid kit, I have no idea where she got it from, and began working on Lockwood's head. Since I didn't know the first thing about first aid, I went downstairs to make tea. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"It was a familiar routine that calmed my mind. I poured the tea, then set it on a tray. It was missing something. I dug around in the cupboards and eventually found a package of cookies. I dumped them on a plate and set in the middle of the tray, and took it upstairs. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I climbed the stairs without spilling any tea (an impressive feat) and went into Lockwood's room. I set the tray down on the small table besides his bed. George reached over and took a cookie and a cup of tea. Holly was dabbing at Lockwood's face with a damp cloth, she finished what she was doing, set the cloth down, and grabbed her own cup and cookie. I took a sip of my tea, and felt the hot liquid warm me up. I sighed with contentment, and grabbed a cookie. George reached for another cookie, but I stopped him just in time./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""George," I said, "Lockwood's not had his cookie yet." George frowned and drew his hand back,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""He's unconscious." He said irritably./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You can't break the cookie rule just because one of us isn't quite awake right now." I said. We got into a short argument about whether George was allowed another cookie or not. Holly ended the disagreement by telling us nicely to shut up so she could concentrate on fixing Lockwood. My feet were hurting, so I went downstairs and grabbed a kitchen chair to sit on. After hauling it up and y sitting in it for about half an hour, I got bored and went to take a shower./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Once I had been cleansed, I felt better, although I was still tired. I put on my oldest, grayest, baggiest pajamas, and went back to Lockwood's room, and sat down in my chair. Holly was finishing up whatever it was she was doing. Lockwood's forehead, and half of his hair was covered by a clean white bandage, stark white against his dark hair. There was a spot of blood on it. His eyes were closed, and his face empty of emotion. It was so unlike the flighty, talkative Lockwood I knew. Suddenly I had a thought. What if Lockwood didn't wake up in time for Christmas in a few days? What if he didn't wake up at all? I ignored my thoughts and slouched down in my chair./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Do you want to stay over tonight?" I asked Holly. She nodded,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Yes please. I want sleep right now more than anything." I nodded. George left shortly after, mumbling something about a shower. He came back after a few minutes and Holly left for /spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"her /spanspan style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"shower. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Did you leave any hot water for her?" I asked George,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""No, it was getting cold when I got out. But at least she'll be quick about it." She sure was. I had no idea Holly could shower in ten minutes, but she could. She reappeared wearing a nightie of mine. It was to big on her, and came down to her ankles, but she didn't seem to mind./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Lucy, can I borrow this for tonight?" she said innocently. I didn't fancy Holly going through my drawers for the dress, but let it slide,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Sure." I grunted. She beamed,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Thank you!" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""When's Lockwood going to wake up?" I asked,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I'm not sure, I've done all I can for him right now. If he doesn't wake up by tomorrow we should take him to the hospital." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I leaned forward till my head was on the edge of Lockwood's bed. It was soft, and slightly warm. Maybe I was just tired, but right then it seemed like the softest thing I had ever touched./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Thanks Holly," I said. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Don't worry about it." She said breezily, "It was nothing really, all I did was…" I began to space off, she wasn't really making any sense. Something about cleaning, and wrapping. I closed my eyes and ignored her. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"When I opened my eyes Holly was gone, and it was dark. I sat up and stretched, rubbing my eyes with the heel of my hand. I reached for my tea, but the tray was gone. I stood up and went downstairs to get a drink. My mouth was dry, as if I had slept with it hanging open. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"When I got close to the kitchen I began to hear noises. Small noises, like the clink of dishes and the sound of cupboards being opened. I poked my head in and looked around. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"It was Lockwood, he was wearing his striped pajamas, and his feet were bare. The bandage wrapped around his head had bits of hair sticking out of it in odd directions. He was facing the sink, back towards me. I think he was doing the dishes./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Lockwood, why are you doing dishes at this time of night?" I asked. He jumped and whirled around, holding a plate in front of himself like a shield. He relaxed when he saw it was me,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""It's only nine Luce. You've been asleep all day." He said and turned back to the dishes. "And I saw the tea tray upstairs and figured I'd take care of it."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""What about your head?" I asked. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Oh I'm fine." He said, and waved a sponge airily in my direction. "How about you?"/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Tired." I said, and sat down in one of the three remaining chairs at the table. I surveyed his face as he finished washing the cup. He was pale, but his eyes were wide and lively./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""George was waiting for you to wake up before he explained everything." Lockwood said, he put the cup away and sat down next to me./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""When I was up he was waiting for you." I said idly. Lockwood grinned,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""He's never going to get a chance will he?" I laughed,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Nope. Why didn't he just wake me up? I napped on the train, I could've stayed awake." It was puzzling, George was always willing to wake me up. Beyond willing, he'd volunteer to wake me up./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I stopped him." Lockwood said cheerily, "You deserved some rest. Besides, if I had let him you would've bitten his head off, and then where would we be?"/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Thanks." I said, and meant it, "But I think he should've. I mean, once he's dead we could put him in a ghost jar. Then we could turn the lever and shut him up whenever we wanted!" Lockwood laughed, and the room lit up. I was glad he was feeling better./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""By the way, how did you get me back here?" Lockwood asked curiously,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""We carried you," I said mildly, as if I hadn't almost dislocated my arm while carrying him backwards up the stairs. "Had some trouble when your foot got caught in the train door, but it ended up fine."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I had wondered where that bruise came from." Lockwood said mildly./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Where's everyone else?" I asked, "If it's only nine as you say, they should be up."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Holly went home for the night, and George crashed on the couch. I wouldn't go in there if I was you, I'm afraid his pants are hanging rather low." He warned me./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Noted." I said./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""And I've got good news!" Lockwood said suddenly. "Fittes called, and they say we don't have to bother with the case anymore since we solved it! They were trying to talk to me about it, but since I don't have the slightest idea what happened I pretended to know what I was talking about. So we don't have to deal with them anymore, they even paid us for our trouble. I can't wait till George explains everything to us."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""That's great!" I said happily. We sat in companionable silence for a while./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""What do you want to do for Christmas Lucy?" Lockwood asked me. I thought about it,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I'm not sure, do you want to do anything?" It was his turn to think. He shook his head,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Not really. Say, do you want to go Christmas shopping tomorrow?" I don't think I could've smiled wider,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Of course!" I said, "That sounds great." Lockwood smiled back at me,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Brilliant. I would invite George, and Holly, but George hates Christmas shopping, and Holly says she wants a few days to rest before celebrating. So it'll just me and you, if that's alright of course."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""It's fine." I said, "What time do you want to go?"/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Around lunch maybe?" He said, "I suppose we could get something to eat."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""That sounds fantastic." I said, and yawned. "Well, I'm off to bed." I stood up, and made to leave./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Verdana; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Good night Luce." Lockwood said, and waved happily. I smiled tiredly,/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;""Night Lockwood."/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;" /p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"strongLongest chapter yet! It's four pages long, my usual chapters are two. Thanks for reading! :)/strong/p 


	22. Chapter 22

woke up feeling completely back to normal. I had forgotten I was sick… Oh no. I stood up, threw the door open, and barreled down the stairs, nearly crashing into Lockwood who was coming out of his room.

"George!" I shouted. I skidded around the corner and into the library, where George was sitting up groggily on the sofa. I tried to ignore how low his pants were hanging. "George, George!" I shouted in his face. He put a meaty hand over my mouth and pushed me away.

"I want breakfast first." He said irritably. I pulled his hand away.

"George! I just remembered," I said, "didn't they poison me or something? Am I going to die?" Lockwood had come down the stairs and was watching me freak out calmly. I didn't want to die, I didn't feel like I was dying, I felt much better now. Good even, didn't some sickness go away they come back with a second wind? George had the nerve to look annoyed.

"Lucy." He said, "You're fine." He stood up and began to make his way to the kitchen. I followed him,

"Walter said that it was a bluff. It won't kill you. I don't think he was lying, his arm really needed medical attention. Nice job by the way, on breaking his arm I mean. I haven't seen an arm as messed up as that before."

I collapsed limply into my chair. There were four again, I guess Lockwood had taken the other one back down after I left.

"I want some toast." I said.

"Then make some." George said.

"I nearly had a heart attack, because _someone_ forgot to tell me I wasn't going to die." I whined, "Why don't you make it?"

"You're fine." George snapped. I really wanted to throw something at him, maybe a chair.

"Both of you, shut up." Lockwood said, "I'll make toast."

"You better thank him George," I said, "if it wasn't for him you'd have a chair leg up your nose."

"You should thank him, for making you toast." George snapped, "And how exactly would I get a massive wooden splinter up my nose?"

"He wouldn't have to make it if it wasn't for you, and I would put it there thank you very much." I snapped.

"Oh yeah." George said. "As if you could even lift the chairs, I mean, you can't even make yourself toast." I heard Lockwood sigh, and go to get the bread.

"I'm plenty able to throw chairs," I said, "now that I know I'm not about to be haunting the attic forever!"

"We'd get rid of your ghost, and you wouldn't necessarily have died in the attic." I snorted,

"You wouldn't have the nerve to get rid of my ghost." I said, although I took his point about the attic.

Lockwood set down three plates, and put a piece of toast on each one. We stopped arguing long enough to eat, then started arguing about which kind of jelly is better. I said raspberry, he said peach.

"Lockwood!" I cried, "Which kind of jam is better, raspberry, or peach?"

"Peach obviously." George said, "Raspberry's got all those little seeds in it that gets stuck in your teeth.

"Honestly," Lockwood took a bite of toast (with raspberry jam) "I'll go with peach"

"But your toast has raspberry jam on it right now!" I cried. He shrugged,

"So? I wanted to try something different."

"Ha!" George cried, and raised a hand triumphantly. Lockwood looked at him quizzically, and high fived him. It made a nice smacking sound. I finished off my toast and put my plate in the sink. I glanced at my watch. It read ten forty-three, and hour and a half before I left with Lockwood then.

"What are you doing this afternoon George?" I asked, "Me and Lockwood are going Christmas shopping." He shrugged,

"Dunno. I figured I'd explain things to you once I finished fine tuning my notes, then read, or something why?"

"No reason." I said. George narrowed his eyes at me.

"No reason? People always say that when they don't want to say the real reason they're asking, what is your true motive?"

"I was just wondering." I said with a touch of annoyance. "I don't have any hidden motives." I sat down, and began doodling a face on the thinking cloth next to a chart that had probably been made by George. The face was bigger than I had expected, Lockwood's plate was in the way. I nudged it out of the way with my index finger and kept working.

"What are you drawing?" Lockwood asked, and leaned over my shoulder to see. I pushed him away,

"Don't do that, it's hard to draw when people are watching. And it's a person." It was a person. It was a cartoon of a girl with long pigtails and a button nose. It was my sister Mary, as she had been when she was seven. But I wasn't about to tell him that. I surrounded the face with sprigs of lavender then set the marker down.

It wasn't an awful picture, but it was blocky and sloppy. I cringed at the lavender, I didn't normally draw flowers. I felt a little sad when I saw her face. It was the kind of sad you feel when a relative you didn't know very well died, sad, but not mind crushingly devastating. That made we wonder what it was like to lose people you were close too, like Lockwood. He was an orphan, and had lost both of his parents, and his sister. He had been close to them all. I was an orphan now too.

I pushed my chair back, and stood up.

"Well, if we don't have plans till later, I'm going to get dressed." I said shortly and left.

Once I had changed I grabbed my sketchbook and a pencil and went back downstairs. I didn't go into the kitchen, but instead the library. I sat down in my usual chair, and began to doodle absent

mindedly. I wondered what time it was, I was excited to go shopping. I loved Christmas time, it was one of my favorite holidays growing up, and still was. I glanced at my watch, eleven thirty-two, still some time to kill.

"Nice ornament." I probably jumped at least a foot into the air. I spun around, and raised my pencil, as if to stab someone with it.

That someone was Lockwood, leaning against the back of the chair looking at me with amusement. He had dressed, and was wearing his usual. The slightly bloodied bandage was gone, and his hair was as elegantly rumpled as ever.

I lowered my hand slowly,

"Lockwood! At least tell me you're in the room before you do that." I grumbled, "You walk so quietly, like a cat."

"A cat huh? If I'm a cat then what are you?"

"Irritated." I said, and sat down. I wasn't really angry, just annoyed he had startled me so easily.

"You could be a dog I guess, no wait, dogs are to needy." He frowned, "That's why I never wanted a dog, you'd have to take care of it constantly."

I erased a section of ornament, and began working on it again. I couldn't get the right curve right, and the unsymmetrical-ness of it bugged me.

"You couldn't be a fish." Lockwood continued, "All they do is swim around in circles. Maybe a wolf or something? Since you're fierce, and strong. But you don't like fish, so not a wildcat. A fox?"

"Lockwood?" I said.

"Yes?"

"Shut up, you're distracting me."

"Sorry." He was quiet for a few minutes, then began wandering aimlessly around the library. Pulling books off the shelves, flicking through them, and putting them back. Eventually he settled on a thick hardcover, he leaned back in his armchair and began to read.

I erased the edge of the circle again, how hard could it be to draw a circle! I began again, _slowly… slowly…_

"Lucy!" I jumped, and my pencil dug into the paper, leaving a short, jagged, dark line. I looked up at Lockwood slowly,

"Yes?" I asked.

"It's about lunchtime, how about we go?"

"Lockwood, we just ate breakfast."

"Still. I'm hungry, please? I'm bored." I sighed and set the sketchpad down. I hoped Lockwood wasn't having a growth spurt. If he got taller…

"Fine." I said, "Let me go get my socks." Lockwood's grin lit up the library.

"Wonderful! Thank you!." I mumbled something along the lines of 'don't worry about it.' and went to get my socks on.


	23. Chapter 23

"Bye George!" Lockwood said happily. I heard someone shout something from inside the house, then Lockwood opened the door and let in a blast of cold air. I reached for my scarf on the coat rack.

It was snowing outside, adding to the collection of snow already on the ground. We got into our cab, and Lockwood gave the driver directions.

We were dropped off at a small cafe near a shopping center. I pushed the door open, a bell hanging on the ceiling chimed to announce our arrival. It was warm inside, so I took off my scarf. A woman with long blonde curls showed us to our table and we sat down gratefully. Lockwood's ears were red, and I'm sure mine were too.

"So what do you want to eat?" I asked Lockwood, and picked up a menu. He studied his laminated paper for a moment, then set it down on the table and pointed.

"The turkey special. It's a good sandwich, and it comes with one of those long pickle spears." I picked up my menu and skimmed it.

"What's good?" I asked.

"You know, I've only ever had the turkey special so I can't say." When the woman came back for our orders I told her I wanted a toasted ham sandwich. When our food came mine had a pickle spear too. We devoured the sandwiches, paid, and left.

"That was a good meal." I said, and put on my scarf.

"Yes it was, we should take George there sometime, he would like the cheesecake. So which store do you want to go to?" I looked around at the shopping center, the ground was covered in a mixture of slush and snow, so we left wet footprints whenever we walked under an awning. Shops of the left, right were filled with flashing red, and green lights.

"I"m not sure." I said, "Depends on what we need to get."

"Right you are, well let's see, we need stuff for George, and Holly. Then we can split to get stuff for eachother. How's that sound?"

"Perfect." We wandered around until we found a store selling beauty products. "Let's go in here." I said, and pointed. Lockwood looked puzzled,

"I didn't know you were into that kind of stuff." He said.

"I'm not, but Holly is."

"Oh yeah, good thinking Luce." The store had an overpowering smell of perfume. Even though it was warm inside I pulled my scarf up over my nose. Lockwood started breathing through his mouth. We browsed for a while, before I decided on a bottle of lotion that was supposed to smell like roses. I bought it, and we walked briskly towards the exit.

We burst out the doors and stumbled a few feet away before I lowered my scarf.

"I don't think my nose is working properly." Lockwood told me, "I can still smell the place."

"Your nose is fine, I can smell it here too. Let's go somewhere else." We did, Lockwood requested we stop at a clothing store to find something for Holly.

"Do you know what size she is?" He said, looking at a pretty red and white dress.

"No, probably small." I was medium, and Holly was smaller than me. He held up a small, it looked _way_ to big for Holly to wear, "Maybe extra-small." I amended.

After that we found a store selling books. It was small inside, the shelves crowded with books, and puzzles. I picked up a book and read the summary aloud.

"In the latest volume of _Theories of the Unknown,_ We follow Dr. Leon Mastgun as he explores the latest, and greatest discoveries about the Problem as we know it today."

"Does George have the first volume?" Lockwood asked me.

"I think so," I said, "if not he can still enjoy this." Lockwood found an enormous map of London, and we bought them at the front desk.

It was beginning to get dark outside when we came into the cold. A few of the stores were closed, and there were less people out. It made me feel very free and powerful. Lockwood, and I weren't scared of the dark.

"Okay," Lockwood said, "now I need to get something for you. Meet back here in an hour?"

"Alright." I said, and watched as he took off down the slushy streets, coat flapping behind him. I wandered about, peering into a few shops absently. Lockwood has hard to shop for. It would be easier if he had some hobbies, I mean, you could always get George a book about science and he would be happy. I liked new pencils and adventure novels. Holly enjoyed cleaning supplies, for her house, and for herself. But Lockwood…

My mind wandered back to our adventures the night before last. I was excited to hear what George had to say once he figured it out for himself. The reason my parents had been murdered that is. Eventually I found a nice leather journal I thought Lockwood would like. He didn't seem to be a 'Let's record this moment in history.' kind of person. But I didn't have any better plans. I made my way back to the bookstore and leaned against a light post to wait for Lockwood.

I felt happy, warm and fuzzy inside. The Christmas trees were up, the flashing lights were on, and everybody was smiling. I hummed along to a carol playing on a nearby radio. I couldn't believe how dark it had gotten, winter days were so short. Almost half the stores were closed, and a few of the ghost lights had come on. The snow drifted down peacefully. It was beautiful.

"You ready?" this time I was prepared for him.

"Yep, are you? Isn't this fun?" I asked cheerfully, he nodded,

"Yes, and yes again. You must be in a good mood."

"I am!" I said happily, "It's Christmas in two days, the weather is perfect, and nobody but you got hurt the other day."

"Fantastic! What should we do now?" He asked me. "Oh wait, I have something I want to show you, follow me!" He grabbed my hand and pulled me down the street, dodging the people who were still out. The bags in my other hand banged against my leg. The shops flew past. "Here we are!" Lockwood cried, and let go of my hand.

It was beautiful. It was an enormous Christmas tree, easily the size of the buildings on either side. It was decorated with lights, ribbons, and big plastic ornaments. It glowed with happiness and love.

"What do you think?" Lockwood asked me proudly, "I found it while I looking for your gift."

"It's beautiful." I said quietly.

"Isn't it?" Lockwood told me. "Right, well now that you've seen this we better get going. George must be going out of his mind with worry." I wanted to keep looking at the tree, but peeled myself away.

"Can we walk home? I don't know why George would worry, we have our rapiers."

"Sure, George is just a worrier." We left the shopping center and began strolling towards Portland Row. It was completely dark out now, even though it was only four thirty.

"So what did you get me?" I asked Lockwood happily. He grinned, and held up a bag.

"I can't tell you." I tried to reach the bag, but Lockwood's arms were long, and he held it up out of my reach. I started laughing when he lowered it, then jerked it up quickly when I reached for it.

"I'll give you a hint." He said teasingly. "Itー"

"Oh my gosh!" I yelled suddenly, "I just had the greatest idea!" It was a fantastic idea, one of the best I've ever had. "Lockwood, let's hurry!" I shouted, and began to jog. He followed me, looking very confused.

"Lucy, what?" He asked me. I glanced over my shoulder, and laughed when he slipped in the slush,

"You'll see!" I cried, and pulled him after me by the wrist.

 **George**

I was just about to go out looking for Lucy, and Lockwood when the door was thrust open. Two snow dusted figures came bursting in. Lockwood, and Lucy's cheeks were red with cold, and their eyes glittered with excitement.

"George!" Lucy cried happily. "I just had the best idea, how are you doing?" What in the world happened to them? Lucy was almost bubbly as she hopped around, clutching three paper shopping bags. "Let me take these upstairs, then we'll talk!" Lucy chirped, and dashed up the stairs, leaving a trail of wet bootprints. Lockwood hung something on the coat rack. It was Lucy's scarf.

"Lockwood, why do you have her scarf?" I asked, he shrugged and began to take off his boots.

"She dropped it, oooh, is that dinner I smell?" It was. I was proud of the meal I had made, chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes. I was sure they would like it. "I'll just take these upstairs." He said, and waved some bags in my face. I pushed them away,

"Okay, but hurry. Dinner's going to get cold soon." He grinned in affirmative, and dashed up the stairs after Lucy.

After an unusual dinner, where Lucy was laughing cheerfully, (once she even giggled!) I was reading quietly in the library, when a whirlwind of smiles and jokes came in. No, it wasn't Lockwood.

"George!" Lucy cried, "I had a brilliant idea when I was out." She sat down next to me and whispered her plan in my ear. I had to admit, it was spectacular. "What do you think?" She asked when she was done.

"It's perfect!" I said, and she smirked.

"Alright then, let's get started."


	24. Chapter 24

We had to wait until Lockwood went to sleep before we started. The problem was, Lockwood didn't want to go to bed.

"What do you mean tuck in early?" He asked us, "We still need George to tell us about Walter said." He had a point, I was curious too.

"I know." I said, in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. "But he's not quite done going over his notes, and you need to rest."

"He had hours to go over notes, he should at least have something by now."

"You still need to sleep, remember your head?" I said, with a touch of irritation. "You got thrown against a door, George says you need to sleep too."

"Is that how it happened?" Lockwood asked, and adjusted some papers at his desk. We were sitting in the basement, it was chilly down here. Lockwood was at his desk, I was _on_ his desk.

"How what happened?" I asked,

"How I got knocked out, I don't actually remember. My memory stops after you ran out the door to get the rapiers. Nice job by the way."

"This proves my point!" I said, ignoring the tingling feeling I got in my gut when Lockwood complimented me. "You need to rest!" A thudding behind me announced the arrival of George, who was eating a doughnut. In his free hand was a crisp manila folder, filled with papers.

"George, tell this idiot that he needs to sleep." George finished chewing his doughnut loudly,

"You need to sleep." He said, and took another bite. Lockwood sighed dramatically, and tilted his head back.

"Fine, but only because I need to get your gifts ready." He grumbled. He pushed back his chair, stood up, then pushed it back in. George, and I watched with bated breath as he left the room. We waited about thirty seconds, then George broke the tension by finishing off his doughnut. He looked at me, and I looked at him.

"Did you get them all?" I asked him. George nodded and set the folder on Lockwood's desk. I opened it, and we both peered inside eagerly.

I awoke on Christmas eve to yelling.

" _Lucy, wake up. I'm bored! Did you know it's Christmas eve, how about you let me out as a gift? Or at least entertain me._ "

"Shut up!" I shouted, and threw my pillow at it. I missed.

" _Oh, nice job there._ " It told me, and turned its face inside out, " _Just like that time in Lavender Lodge._ "

"I got the water to Lockwood didn't I? It was George who missed."

" _Yes, because knocking your friends out of windows while they're on fire is clearly your objective. None of you can throw properly. Anyway, I need you to do something for me._ "

"What?" I asked, and buried my face in the sheets where my pillow used to be.

" _Set me free._ "

"Is this what you woke me up for? It's like five o'clock!"

" _It's nine. And don't you want to talk to me? I'm much more interesting than_ those _two downstairs. What do they care about, food? Murder? I care about your well being, you know that. How many times have I saved your life?_ "

"To many." I said, to be frank it was embarrassing that a ghost in a jar had saved my skin before.

" _Exactly, you're incompetent. Think of all the things I could do for you if you just let me out._ " I threw my blankets off, snatchted the skull, and marched downstairs. It kept screaming at me on the way down. I went into the kitchen, and slammed it down on the middle of the table. Lockwood, and George looked at it, then at me.

"George." I said, "It's volunteering for your experiments."

" _No, no I'm not! Tell him I'm not Lucy!"_

"It says to start as soon as possible." I said. "Now what's for breakfast?" It was pancakes. I took a bite, and cringed.

" _These_ are the ones you made, Lockwood." He looked irritated,

"What's with you two, my cooking isn't _that_ bad." He said, and took a bite fore emphasis. He had trouble swallowing it. We finished choking down the food.

"It's Christmas Eve." Lockwood told us. "So we need to get a tree. But first George is going to explain some stuff. We've waited long enough, Lucy and I are both awake, and my head is fine." George nodded.

"Alright, Lucy will you put on the kettle?" I wanted to refuse, but Lockwood gave a look, so I stood up and went to make tea.

"Okay, you can start now." Lockwood said, after an awkward pause.

"Oh, right sorry." George said. He took off his glasses and polished them on the edge of his sweater. "So, as far as I know this happened about two months ago. Walter, the big bloke, was in love with a girl name Eline Tarna. When she got a visitor in her house they called Fittes. However, she didn't leave soon enough, so when the ghost arrived she was still in the house. At first the agents had it under control, but it was more aggressive than they thought. As Eline was leaving, she saved one of the agents at the expense of her own life.

"To get revenge on the agents for not following the proper safety precautions that led to Elines death, they began to murder people to get powerful ghosts."

"Hold on." I interrupted, "You said they, who else besides Walter?"

"Daniel Notskova, now he was also in love with this Eline girl. I'll be getting to that in a minute." George said, "Are you done with the tea yet?"

"Nearly."

"Anyway, they wanted revenge so they began killing to get ghosts. But things changed with Eline came back as a visitor. They both had loved her when she was live, but she had never said anything about her feelings to either of them. They were convinced she was a type three, so they needed someone to listen to her for them so they could find out who she really loved. They couldn't just ask some night watch kid to do it, they needed an agent. But all the agents from the big agencies would be reported missing if they took them. That's when they came to us, thank you Lucy." I set his tea down, then brought over mine and Lockwoods.

"Sure. Keep going."

"So they needed a smaller agency, and they found out that there was a girl named Lucy Carlyle who had brilliant listening abilities, and belonged to a small agency. They began asking our old clients, about you, Lucy. One of them had seen you talking to the ghost jar, they had just figured you were mad, but Harold thought otherwise. Now Harold had no part in the murders, he just wanted to research the ghosts. He thought that understanding them was the key to getting rid of them." George stopped, and took a cookie,

"Go on." Lockwood said, leaning towards George in his excitement.

"Smart one he is, very smart. Anyway, they made a deal. Harold could look at the ghosts as much as he wanted, as long as he helped them make a plan. You see, Walter, and Daniel needed help. They couldn't figure out how to get you. Harold suggested we confirm that you could talk to ghosts, that's what they needed Holly for. Once she had told them you could, they took the ghost jar for Harold to study, he said he needed it. That if it was a type three it was beyond valuable. They used your sister, Tia, since she could get into the house without being suspicious. They told her that if she didn't then they would kill her daughter. They left the note, so that you would come to them. Then Daniel got caught, after a slip of the tongue. Then we showed up, but we slipped away. But they knew they had hit someone with a dart, because one of the darts they found later had blood on it. Walter didn't want to wait to get you Lucy, so they took Holly and tried to get her to listen. Of course she couldn't talk to the ghost jar, and could barely hear the girl. So they still needed you, they pretended that that sickness you got from the dart was deadly, so that you would have to come. They were running short on money, so they requested a thousand pounds. You know the rest, after we beat Walter, they police came and cleaned up their mess. Walter, and Harold, and in jail now."

" _What a tragic love story."_ I reached out and turned the tap. When the ghost kept making faces, I put a handkerchief over it.

"Well that makes sense." Lockwood said, "Good job everyone." He raised his cup of water, "To another mystery solved!" We raised our glasses, and downed the water heartily. "Now," Lockwood said, "it's time to start preparing!"

"Preparing for what?" I asked him. He grinned at me warmly,

"Why, for Christmas of course!"


	25. Chapter 25

Lockwood had put me in charge of making paper chains, while he and George went out to get a tree. It was fun at first, but was getting rather tedious. I was about to stop, and take a break for some hot chocolate when Holly arrived. She was wearing a crisp white blouse, and a pleated black skirt.

"Good morning, Lucy!" She chirped. "How are you doing? Your face looks better."

"Hi, I'm doing good." I smiled despite myself, "How are you?"

"Oh I'm great, are you making paper chains?" I nodded, she sat down next to me on the floor and began helping me. "I ran into the boys on my way over, they got a good tree."

"Good." I said, "Last year they got this miniature one that was dying. Pass me the glue." She grabbed the bottle and handed it to me. "Thanks."

"Sure, Lockwood's doing better too, and George's arm is almost completely back to normal."

"Yeah," I said, "Lockwood's fine, although we practically had to manhandle him to bed last night. George is how he always is."

"He called me last night and told me about why all this crazy stuff was happening."

"Oh good, I was wondering if he would."

"Did you find out who the ghost girl loved?" She asked, and began cutting up another piece of gold paper.

"No, she just said 'I love' over and over again."

"I wonder who she really did love." I shrugged,

"Who knows? Personally, I wouldn't love either of them."

"But you don't know either of them." Holly said, and glued a piece of paper to the other side of the chain.

"I think that if you murder people for revenge, and kidnap for petty curiosity, then you're not somebody I'd love." Holly looked skeptical, but left it at that. Soon after, George, and Lockwood came back, dragging a good sized tree behind them. We set it up haphazardly, so it was leaning heavily to the left.

"Okay, George stop pulling, it's good enough." Lockwood commanded, George stopped pulling and the tree stopped falling over.

"Who wants hot chocolate!" Holly said, and came in with a tray. We all did, it was warm, and hot, and soothing. I gulped it down eagerly.

"Thanks Hol," George said. I agreed. Lockwood slammed his mug down suddenly, and stood up. He beamed at us, dark eyes practically glowing.

"Who's ready to decorate!" He cried, and we all cheered enthusiastically.

The next few hours were a blur of ornaments, paper chains, lights, and ribbons. Once we were done we stood back and surveyed our handiwork with more than a bit of pride. It looked like santa had barfed all over the sitting room. The tree was covered in white lights and mismatched ornaments. There. We had all brought our presents over and set them under the tree. The whole house smelled like cinnamon, and chocolate.

I sat down in my chair with a smile,

" _Well you look happy, for once."_ I glared at the coffee table. George had brought the skull over so that it could enjoy the holidays with us. I just thought it was just enjoying making fun of us. " _Christmas is so nostalgic for me,"_ it continued, " _I remember my first Christmas vividly, it was two years ago."_ I stopped smiling when he started telling the story of the first time he had celebrated Christmas. (Since anyone could talk to him that is.)

"Can you help me with this, Luce?" I turned around and peered over the back of my chair. Lockwood was standing in the doorway, he was carrying an enormous pile of blankets. It blocked his face, as I watched, he came in, and promptly ran into a side table. I took pity on him, and took half his load.

"What's all this for?" I asked him.

"We're going to sleep down here," He said joyfully, "I used to do that when I was a kid."

"Did you?" I asked. I what he was about to do, answer the question, then change the subject.

"Yes, where's everyone else?" I tried to hide my disappointment,

"George went to get some more tea, and Holly had to finish wrapping something."

"We're out of tea already, I swear I just got some the other day." I shrugged, and dropped the blankets on the floor.

"We go through a lot."

"We do." there was an awkward silence. I searched the recesses of my mind desperately for something to say,

"Uh, how's your head?"

"It's fine. How about you?" I looked at him in a questioning way. He tapped his cheek with one long finger.

"Oh, it's fine." I said. The bruise was nearly gone, all there was left was an ugly red mark on my face. "Everything is all fine."

That night we all snuggled into our blankets downstairs. Even Holly had agreed to stay the night with us. It was warm downstairs, and although the floor was harder than my mattress upstairs, wedged between Lockwood, and George, I had never felt more comfortable.

 **Short chapter today, but the next chapter is the last one! I can also officially say this is fifty pages long, yay!**


	26. Chapter 26

Warmth, cinnamon, chocolate, shampoo, floor, blanket. It was deathly quiet, and I could feel the excitement radiating off of my unconscious comrades. Everything felt warm, comforting, and friendly. It was like how Christmases used to before my father died. All this I could detect without moving. I opened my eyes and promptly got a piece of hair in my eye, then the peace was shattered

"Ow!" I shouted, "Ow, ow ow, hair in my eye!"

Everyone woke up at once, and then it was a confusion of limbs and voices as George tried to sit up, Lockwood tried to figure out what was happening, Holly looked around in concern, and I tried to get the hair out of my eye.

I finally got it out, and sat up.

"What was that?" Holly asked.

"Who screamed?" George asked. Lockwood didn't say anything.

"It must've been one of the neighbors." I told them.

"What's that?" Lockwood asked, and pointed. Underneath the tree was a big pile of gifts. And behind all of those, leaning against the wall was a large, rectangle covered in wrapping paper.

"We'll look at that later." George said, "Breakfast first."

And so we ate. It was a meager affair since nobody really wanted to cook actual food for us, so we settled for some toast and some old orange juice. We ate quickly and dumped the dirty dishes in the sink for some unfortunate soul to wash later. Then, we all wandered into the other room, as if we were magnetically drawn to it.

We sat down half circle around the tree, and George reached out a hand to grab the nearest present. It was addressed to Holly, so he passed it to her. It was the red dress Lockwood had gotten with me when we went shopping. She went upstairs to put it on. When she came back, even I was impressed. Next, George grabbed one for himself. It was also from Lockwood, it was the enormous map of London. He rolled it out on the floor and stared at it for a while, wearing a face that for once wasn't so unhappy.

"Luce, here." George nudged me in the shoulder with something, and I grabbed it. It was about the size of a shoe box, and wrapped in green and red paper. I tore the paper open eagerly, It _was_ a shoe

box. "It's a box!" George said with mock surprise. I took the lid off and looked inside, and burst out laughing.

It was filled to the brim with gum. The good kind.

"Thanks George." I said, and pushed it to the side. "It's your turn Lockwood!" He had been staring intently at the large gift in the back, as if he could see through the wrapping paper. He turned back to us when I spoke and took the present. He shook it gently, and turned it over in his hands before he actually looked inside. It was the leather journal I had gotten for him. He smiled broadly, and thanked me profusely. I felt my face grow hot, and looked away. It wasn't a great gift, but it would do.

Then it was Holly's turn again. Then George's, me, then Lockwood. And so we went, until there was only one present left. I had gotten a new watch from Holly, and a pair of heavy-duty, ectoplasm-proof boots from Lockwood. George had received my gift with much excitement. And Holly had given him some sort of device that I didn't understand.

Lockwood had gotten a rapier polishing set from Holly, and a book on how to relax from George. Then he got up to peer around the edges of the rectangle of mystery.

It was about four feet tall, and maybe two and a half feet wide. Very thin, except for around the edges, where it bulged out sharply.

"Is it a picture?" He asked, and looked at us. His hair hung in his face, and be brushed it aside with barely contained excitement. He was rocking back and for on the balls of his feet like a small child waiting for a gift. Which technically he was, we were all still young. I felt a brief pang of sadness, for some reason that had reminded me of my family. Even if I didn't like them, or didn't want to see them again, I still had good memories with them. I shoved it out of my mind, and stood up.

"In a way." I said, and moved towards in. George, and Holly stood up and came with me. Together we lifted it up, and presented it to him.

"For you." Holly said. At first he looked presently surprised, then ecstatic. He leaned forward, and began peeling the paper off. First gently, then ferociously. Once all the snowman paper had been discarded, he took a few steps back to survey our work.

It was a picture frame, a plain wooden one, and inside was a picture. Well several pictures, and some words. It was a collage of newspapers, all of them from cases we've solved. There were pictures of us in black and white, and articles about our success. From Combe Carey Hall, to the parade that Rotwells had put on. They were all there. We presented it to him proudly.

Lockwood was still, and a ghost of a smile was upon his lips.

"How?" he asked, and looked us each in the eyes.

"When you went to bed the other day, me and George got started on it." I said happily, "And Holly "brought the frame and helped us fix all our mistakes."

"It would've been a lot easier if you had just gone to bed." George said, and pushed his glasses up his nose.

"So that's what it was about." He whispered. He stepped forward and took the frame from us gently, he propped it against the wall and approached us. Then, he gathered us all in his long arms, and squeezed. I was directly underneath him, and could feel his chin on my head. George, and Holly were on either side of me. I hugged Lockwood back, enjoying the warmth that came from being surrounded my friends.

And before he let us go, I thought I felt something small, and wet fall onto my head.

 _This is the first time I have ever written a journal entry before. So later, when I come back to read this, I will probably think it's childish. My name is Anthony Lockwood, owner, and founder of Lockwood and Co. The smallest, yet best agency in all of London. Today it's Christmas. This journal was given to me by Lucy. I also received some rapier polishing stuff, and the latest copy of_ Relaxing for Dummies. _They also gave me something amazing. It was a piece of art, made up of all of the newspapers we've been in. All the articles, all the pictures. They're all there. Including our failures, but they are almost all good. And seeing how many times we've been in the paper can't help but make me proud. When I started this I had no idea how it would turn out, all I had was a little money, my dreams, and my rapier. Yet now I've created a family, not just my family, but Lucy's now too. Her parents are dead now. And one of her sisters. She wasn't close to them, but I can tell she was hurting for a while, it's getting better now. I'm glad. After we ate breakfast, and opened presents we laid around for a while and tinkered with our new stuff. I polished my rapier, Lucy chewed some gum, George read, and Holly started making cookies. Once she was done we ate them, and then had some leftover soup for lunch. It wasn't my soup, George insisted on throwing it away, and Lucy agreed. It was some tomato based soup George had made last week. It was delicious. Then I took a shower, and when I came back George was still engrossed in his new book, Holly was going to visit her family, and Lucy was writing something. I went to practice rapier for a while, when I came back up it was getting dark. Lucy was wearing her coat, and the new boots I had given her. When I came down she smiled at me and made for the door. She said she was going to get some air, I asked if I could come and she agreed. When we were outside she shivered, and put her hands in her pockets. I was content to follow where she led. After a while we reached an small post office. She went inside, and I followed. Lucy stopped at the drop off station, took a slightly crumpled envelope out of her pocket, and dropped it in. We left without talking, but I had saw the address on the envelope, and knew it was to one of her sisters. After that she seemed in much better spirits. We walked for maybe an hour, before I saw a faint type one, and we decided to go home. Neither of us had our rapiers, and while we could deal with most type ones at this time of night, it was better to be safe than sorry. When we were nearly back to Portland Row she told me about her letter. It was to Tia, she said, I can faintly remember her address if I think about it. It's to tell her that I'm sorry, about what I said I mean. She looked a little nervous, and that I never hated anyone else in the family. Also that I appreciate everything you all did for me, even if I wished you could've done more. She also said that she wished she could write a letter to her mother, and her father as well as her sister. Because, as she said, she never got a chance to say goodbye. After that we finished our walk, and ate a spectacular dinner George had whipped up in record time. Lucy left, saying something about tucking in early, and as she passed by the other room I heard her yelling at the skull. Then George left to finish his book, leaving me alone with my thoughts. After awhile I decided to put this journal to good use, and write about my day. Talking with Lucy about her dead family made me think, what if she died? We risk our lives almost every night, and even George has been ghost touched now. Lucy has almost fallen down a well, fallen down a massive pit in the floor, almost toppled off the top story of a staircase, and has crossed to other side when her cape ripped. That moment was terrifying. So below this I'm going to write a letter to her, in case I ever die. If she dies, I won't be able to talk to her, but if I die, she at least deserves to talk to me one last time as a reasonable person, not a panic-stricken man running from a visitor. So here it is, my first, and best attempt at a goodbye letter._

 _Dear Lucy,_

 _We've come so far since I first told you the cookie rule, through hard times, and good. And through it all you've been by my side. Well, I guess not a first, but the vast majority of the time you've been with me. If you're reading this, I am dead, and you are now going through my stuff. Normally I would tell you not to do that, and it's rude, but under the circumstances I would forgive you. I give you permission to go through all my stuff, it's not like I'll be using it again. I want you to know, that I really loved working with you, and you were more than I could've imagined. Without you Lockwood and Co, and I wouldn't be who we are today. And I'm thanking you for that. I also want to say, please don't be to sad. It's okay be upset when someone dies, but I've had this coming for a long time. I'd prefer for you to be happy, and smiling, rather than crying and upset. So please, don't worry, I'm okay with how it is now. I would have liked to have more time with you, but I can't. Thank you, Lucy, for everything. Thank you so much, goodbye._

 _Love,_

 _A. J. Lockwood_

 **This is the last author note I will write on this story. So here are all of my thanks, first of all, thank you for reading thus far. You don't know how much I appreciate that. Second, thank you all who favorited, commented, and liked. I may not have responded to all of you (I don't know how) but I read, and will continue to read each and every note sent to me. And most of all thank you (No not my readers, I bet you thought I was going to say that again!) but Jonathan Stroud for writing such amazing books.**


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